Calamity Jane Meets Dr Isles, Medicine Woman
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: An AU set in the Old West. Why? Because I want to know how a proper, aspiring female doctor would react to a driven, hard-as-nails woman on the range. They don't know it yet, but Maura's fiancee just met his match.
1. Welcome Committee

**A/N**: So I've been sitting on this one for a while. Recently I've gotten on a real Western kick, and it ultimately inspired what is sure to be a wildly historically inaccurate fanfic. Wow. Never thought I would go here, and yet, I'm psyched.

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><p>"Calamity" Jane Rizzoli had a voice like sin.<p>

If she spoke your name with it, God have mercy on you: whether she was angry with you or not, it would take legions of self-control to keep yourself from falling to the floor at the sound of it. For many an unlucky soul, Jane's voice was the last sound to ever pass through their ears. It was deep, it was rough, it was sensual. When you heard that voice, you knew you were encountering a woman who had really experienced life—really swept into each corner of it, exploring every nook and cranny she could, and never resting for a second. A new mountain to be climbed? Jane was on it. A new lake to be explored? Jane was in it. A wild animal taking out your cattle? Jane would be wearing its hide by the next day.

In short, she was not a person to be reckoned with. If you were fortunate enough to consider her an ally, she'd sooner take her own life than betray you. But her list of friends was short, because most people she met had heard of her reputation with a gun and were wary of her alleged trigger-happy finger. She rarely seemed to smile so much as smirk, and then of course there was the fact that she simply was unlike any other woman most civilized people had ever met.

Another reason her friends numbered so few was because Jane rarely stayed in the same place longer than a few months. She traveled from town to town with one sidekick, the only person she would really trust with her life. But settle down? Never. Hers was a spirit that could not broken. Hers was a lifestyle that could never be tamed. Hers was a passion that could never be quelled.

Hers was a life Maura Isles couldn't ever have imagined in even her wildest dreams.

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><p>They had told her it would be impossible. They had said she would be laughed at, run out of town, despised. They had said, in effect, that if the best and brightest Boston had to offer would scoff at the idea of a woman establishing her own medical practice, those hooligans in the West would surely cry witchcraft. Actually it was exactly this last idea that gave Maura Isles pause, and made her wonder how her fellow Americans in the West really <em>would <em>feel about her. She had been completely honest in her intentions when she told some friends that she would like to take over her father's hospital, but no one had been able to take her seriously. This had gotten her to thinking.

_August 4, 1884_

_Dearest Garrett_,

_Has your situation in Hollow Creek improved? I'm afraid that Boston is getting more and more insufferable by the day. It has been just over a month since father's death, and without him or you here, life is becoming quite intolerable. People I had counted among friends have turned on me, and have laughed at my hopes and ambitions. I feel despondent and lonely. I've enough money saved up for fare to Arizona, and wish you would allow me to at least stay near you. Is there a doctor in Hollow Creek? Perhaps he could use the help of a humble nurse._

_Anxiously awaiting your reply, _

_your devoted Maura_

His response arrived several weeks later, which was the fastest he could do:

_My dear Maura,_

_ After giving your proposal much consideration, I have deemed it appropriate for you to come and join me in Hollow Creek. There is great need of my financial expertise in this town, and it's a refreshing change from Boston—not overwhelmingly large (where I might face too much competition), but not despairingly small, either. Things are certainly never dull around here!_

_ My only concern is that it may be too rough for you. You, my dear, are a very refined lady, despite your familiarity with the most unpleasant of medical procedures and situations. There are some things here I should hate for you to witness or be a part of, but I have decided that so long as you are never unaccompanied, you should be able to navigate around Hollow Creek's more unsavory portions. If we are indeed to be married, it would be foolish to prolong your coming here any further; at some point, you must become accustomed to this terrain because I plan to raise our family here. Besides, I'm a man of very great importance in this town, and I hate to think how they would get along without me now! _

_ Please find enclosed the fare for your ticket. I'll do my part to take care of our finances from now on. Ask at the station when the next train is scheduled to come through Mesa—that's the closest one to Hollow Creek—and send an express letter to me with that date. If possible, I will come to meet you. If not, I shall arrange for a coach to escort you. _

_ Yours, Garrett_

With the skepticism and discouragement of various townspeople still ringing in her ears, Maura had boarded the Mesa-bound train at the end of October. It had taken her little more than a week to settle her affairs in Boston (pack up the house, make sure her father's hospital was in good hands, etc), and she had packed all her worldly possessions into five pieces of luggage that lay stacked above her head in a private, luxurious train compartment. In spite of the fact that Garrett had conspicuously failed to mention any openings in Hollow Creek for a woman with medical experience, Maura felt extremely optimistic about her future, and excited for what lay ahead. She hoped that she would be leaving small-mindedness behind her, along with the crowds and the greed that she was starting to assume came with all big cities like Boston. The journey out West was long, and Maura occasionally felt restless, but more often than not she was too upbeat to get down about it. This train was carrying her to Garrett, to a new land, to happiness.

Her welcome to Arizona was a mixed bag of good and bad; or, at least, that's how it seemed initially. A porter helped Maura off the train with her bags, but a quick look through the crowds proved that Garrett had been unable to meet her. She had to admit that this was disappointing. It had been nearly a full year since she had seen him, and it hurt that he hadn't felt it worthy of his time to pick her up from the station. _Don't think that_, she quickly scolded herself. _He must be very busy with work. I should be glad! I should feel fortunate to have such a successful fiancé_.

With every passing moment, more and more people left the station, and Maura felt a bit of anxiety settling in. How would she recognize the person Garrett had sent to collect her? Or had he perhaps forgotten that she was coming, and hadn't sent anyone? Even if Maura had known the way to Hollow Creek, it would be quite difficult to get there with all of this luggage. Just as she was about to turn and ask the station attendant if he could at least point her in the right direction, a small, balding man approached her with a frayed hat in his hands.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, trying to suppress a grin. "Are you Miss Maura Isles?"

Relief flooded through her. "Why, yes! Did Garrett send you?"

"Mr. Fairfield sends his regrets," the man said, reaching for Maura's bags. "He's been working mighty hard lately and said he just couldn't get away today. Asked me to come pick you up, and I said it'd sure be a pleasure."

"How did you know who I was?" Maura asked curiously, following him to his horse and buggy.

"Well ma'am," he said, starting to load her bags on top of the carriage. "Mr. Fairfield said you had hair the color of a sunset, and that you were prettier than a desert flower." He turned around in time to see Maura grinning bashfully. Mr. Fairfield sure knew how to pick 'em. "I also figured you'd been traveling a long ways, and you'd more likely than not have a bit of baggage with you."

"Oh, of course," Maura laughed. "And oh, I feel so rude! What's your name?"

"Crowe, ma'am. Welcome to the west!"

He clumsily assisted her inside the carriage, then shut the small door behind her and climbed on top. Before starting them off, Crowe opened a small door next to his seat and peered down into the carriage to see Maura smiling up at him. "If you reckon we need to stop at any time, just tap the roof near this lid here. I was able to get down to the station from Hollow Creek in just under an hour, but I admit I may have been going a bit recklessly." His tone was slightly boastful, but Maura didn't hold him at fault for it, even if he was exaggerating. "Seeing as now I'm carrying a lady and all her many belongings, I'll make sure to go it safe. I'd say we'll make it to town in two hours or less. Ought to be just in time for dinner!" He then shut the door, and Maura's smile widened as she heard the crack of a whip and the two horses take off at a comfortable trot.

Even though she'd had several days on the train ride to admire the scenery, Maura still couldn't get over the beauty of the countryside and how entirely different it was from Boston. Having been to Europe twice, she felt comfortable in asserting that the West was just as foreign a place as Paris, London, or Sicily. The skies were bluer than they were in Boston, the clouds were fuller and more aesthetically pleasing. Very few trees dotted the landscape, replaced by enormous mountains that dwarfed anything puny man could even visualize building. She didn't even care that with the shutters open, she was letting in the occasional spurt of dust. She didn't care about the scorching heat or the bumpy ride. All that mattered was that she was going someplace, and she was getting closer to Garrett.

About twenty-five minutes into their ride, Maura was delighted to spot two lone figures on horseback. They seemed to have emerged out of nowhere, perhaps unseen earlier because of the heat waves which blurred Maura's distant vision. _Real cowboys!_ she thought with childlike wonder. Her sweetly innocent curiosity was further piqued as the riders came closer, but that awe transformed slowly into unease as she noticed one of the men was quite dark, and both had pulled out guns. They got closer, and the white one shot twice into the air, his horse running out of sight of Maura's tiny window. She nearly fell off her cushioned seat when the horses came to an abrupt stop.

"Please, I don't want no trouble!" Crowe said, clearly panicked. This wasn't a good sign: if her driver was scared, surely Maura ought to be as well.

"What a coincidence, we don't want no trouble either," said the rider Maura couldn't see. "Couldn't help noticing all them fancy bags on top of your surrey back there. Wondered if maybe there was anything in there you'd like to lend us."

"Well I—I wouldn't rightly know," Crowe answered.

"You wouldn't, eh?"

Maura jumped when the black man used his gun to nudge the shutters open wide enough to look inside himself. Catching sight of the refined-looking woman, he whistled and said, "Look here, Jake! Seems this fella's carrying some precious cargo!"

Maura's heartbeat continued to race and she turned quickly to look out the other window, which had just been opened by the man she assumed was Jake. Part of her thought she should be more afraid, but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to even have the ladylike decency to faint. This seemed to impress Jake, who would not have looked out of place as a villain in an onstage melodrama. A faded cowboy hat was pulled low over his face, covering a head of short black hair but not protecting his skin from quite a tan. Maura felt herself blushing under the intense gaze of his dark brown eyes, but even with a smirk, it was hard to pinpoint his expression. Was he sucking in his cheeks, or were those just high cheekbones? (It was difficult to tell from Maura's vantage point.) A thin black mustache and suspiciously well-trimmed triangular goatee were his other noteworthy facial features, made all the more surprising because of his extremely clean-shaven face.

"Driver," he called out, his voice a combination of whiskey, honey, and thick black cigars. "Where exactly you headed?"

"Hollow Creek," Crowe responded nervously.

Jake raised his eyebrows and stared across the carriage at his companion. Maura knew it was presumptuous to make assumptions about a stranger, but it seemed to her that Jake's gaze carried a streak of longing or nostalgia. "Hollow Creek?" he said in that rich voice which sent a shiver down Maura's spine. "Gosh almighty, how long's it been since we stopped by there?"

"Five, six years?" the other guessed.

For a few moments, Jake just sat there, idly stroking his horse's mane. It could have been that he was doing some serious pondering, but Maura was just as willing to believe that he was trying to instill even more anxiety in her and Crowe. Finally, Jake nodded over at his partner and said, "Get up on top of there with our driver." Addressing Crowe, he said, "You sir are going to have the honor of escorting Jake Wyatt to Hollow Creek." He winked at Maura. "I'll join the lady down here."

If Crowe had been just a bit more of a man, he might have protested, but something about his new passengers—perhaps their guns—rendered him strangely permissive. Jake and his cohort, who had both been riding bareback, dismounted their horses, and the animals stood by the carriage as if awaiting further instruction. Jake's partner climbed on top of the surrey to make sure Crowe didn't try anything funny, and Jake, true to his word, clambered inside of the carriage, sitting opposite Maura. When they didn't start moving immediately, Jake lazily pulled out his gun and fired a shot upwards. Maura jumped again, but Jake just smirked, knowing that because of his aim, he hadn't been in danger of actually shooting Crowe. Nonetheless it did the trick, and they set off at a quick clip, Jake and his companion's horses keeping up all the way.

"No need to look so worried, ma'am," Jake said, making himself comfortable by putting his feet up on the seat by Maura. She scooted as far away from them as possible. His boots appeared to be made of snakeskin, but were so heavily caked in mud and red dust that it was almost hard to tell for certain. One thing was for sure, and that was that they smelled worse than a donkey that had been ruminating on rotten asparagus. Jake emitted a low chuckle. "If you continue to stare like that, I might start feelin' mighty bad about myself."

"S-sorry," Maura stammered.

Jake shrugged. "Don't mind me, I ain't gonna give you no trouble. In fact, I think I might try and get a little shut-eye if you'd be so kind as to wake me once we get to town." He folded his arms and sunk a little lower down into the seat, closing his eyes.

After a minute or two had passed and he really seemed to be asleep, Maura allowed herself the opportunity to study Jake more closely. For someone who talked so big, he was surprisingly thin—or maybe limber would be the better word. She had to wonder if Crowe would've been so intimidated without the gun slung lazily around Jake's slender hips; without that weapon, he seemed to hardly pose much of a physical threat. A thin, fringed vest added little weight to his trim frame, and despite his bravado, there was something strangely delicate about him. Ultimately he proved a much more interesting subject to examine than the foreign landscape.

About forty minutes later, something intensely curious happened. Jake unconsciously rubbed his nose, and in so doing, slightly dislodged his mustache. Maura frowned and tried to look closer. She was so perplexed that she wasn't even startled when Jake suddenly opened his eyes and stared right at her.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Your mustache is askew," Maura said blankly.

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Jake quickly sat up, swearing softly. He felt the mustache, and upon realizing that half of it had tilted onto his upper lip, laughed gaily. Maura wasn't entirely sure how to react when he peeled the entire thing right off, then removed one of his rawhide gloves in order to more easily take off the small goatee. Jake slipped the beard and mustache into his shirt pocket and put the glove back on, and Maura thought she caught a glimpse of a scar on his palm- but before she could enquire further, Jake did something even more distracting: he pulled his hat off his head, revealing that his hair had been pulled into a sort of tight bun. Pulling out the pins, luxuriously thick hair fell down to his back, like a waterfall of black syrup.

Which is when it finally dawned on Maura that this was not a man.

"Sorry to startle ya," the woman said, her voice still deep but sounding a bit gentler now. "You don't seem to be familiar with Jake Wyatt, are ya?"

"No," Maura said slowly, still internally reeling.

"You're new to these parts."

"How do you figure that?"

The woman leaned forward, smiling. "Aside from the fact that you didn't recognize me? One: your skin is too fair to have been exposed to our dirty country sun. Two: you have enough bags strapped to the top of this here surrey to furnish a large home. Three: you're wearin' far too many layers for this heat. Four: you speak funny."

"I most certainly do not!" Maura protested. "Take that back at once, Mr. …I mean, Miss..."

"I'll help you out. The name's actually Jane," the woman said, extending a hand that Maura didn't take.

"And what is your surname?"

"My what?"

"Your last name."

Jane shrugged. "Ain't important. Who're you?" When Maura remained silent, Jane sighed and said, "You might as well tell me now. If you're fixing to stay in Hollow Creek—and if that's your final destination, it seems like you'll be staying there a while—I'm goin' to find out who you are, anyway."

After a quick internal debate, Maura finally said, "I'm Dr. Maura Isles."

"Doctor! Well, well. That's mighty remarkable, Maura."

And the funny thing was that she actually sounded and looked sincere. Fidgeting slightly, Maura said, "May I ask… who exactly you are?"

"Sure," Jane said, crossing her legs. "Hollow Creek is sort of my hometown, I guess you could say."

"Is that where your kin are?"

"My what?"

"Your family. Your parents."

"Ain't got parents no more," Jane answered casually. "I just got two brothers. My mother died giving birth to the youngest, and my pop was killed when I was fourteen." She idly rubbed her nose, apparently ignorant of Maura's shock at this information, or perhaps the airiness with which it was delivered. "Anyway, the last time I went through Hollow Creek, my brothers were still there. I'd like to see 'em."

"Where do you live now?" Maura asked curiously.

"Anywhere I like," Jane said with a glint in her eye. "Wherever there's a sunrise, or a fight, or a wild bull. Wherever there's a new field or a rusty mine track to be explored. I don't need nothing or nobody but Frost."

"Frost?"

"Oh, Frost. My, uh, business partner," Jane explained, nodding upwards to indicate the black man they couldn't see (who was currently holding Crowe at lazy gunpoint, ensuring they got taken to Hollow Creek).

"How did you, um…"

"Pick him up? We crossed paths about ten years ago. Found out he was lookin' for the same person I was, and we decided to team up."

"And does he know you're a… woman?"

"'Course he knows," Jane chuckled, folding her hands behind her head. "He's the one who swiped this here fake facial hair for me. Pretty good, ain't it? Got it from some traveling acting troupe. Never mind why. But hear this," she said, leaning forward again. "People in Hollow Creek know me as Jane. You tell a single soul that I'm Jake Wyatt, and I won't hesitate to shut you up any way I can. Watch this." She rapped the roof the carriage with the butt of her gun. "Frost? Throw a slug off the east side of this here carriage, will ya?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Jane cocked her gun and aimed it outside the window facing east, and Maura looked out curiously. Thanks to the unrelenting sunlight, she caught a glimpse of a tiny piece of copper flying through the air before Jane's bullet hit it with a tinny but definitely audible "kapwing" sound.

"Do we have an understanding?" Jane said, placing the gun back into its holster.

"Yes," Maura said. It had never been her intent to rat out Jane anyway.

"So what brings you out here, Dr. Isles?" Jane asked.

"I'm going to be married."

"Ah. My condolences."

Maura furrowed her brow. "Don't patronize me, Jane, simply because I don't subscribe to your freewheeling lifestyle."

"Sorry," Jane said, sounding as though she meant it. "I suppose there's some merit in what you're doing. Just don't interest me much."

"You don't want to be married?" Maura asked.

"Hell no, if you'll excuse my language," Jane said, though it looked as if Maura might never recover from hearing such vulgarity. "I like men, but I don't ever get too attached. Anyone who really loved me would want me to give up my job, and I couldn't ever do that."

"What's your job?"

With a one-sided smirk, Jane said, "Sorry, Maura, I don't know you well enough yet to tell you that much. Don't take it personally, though. I think I like you."

"You do?"

"Sure. You stayed alert when I got in here. Of course, that may be because you didn't realize that I'm wanted in most counties, but still …it's impressive. If anybody in Hollow Creek ever gives you a hard time, you just let me know."

Wondering if that was likely to happen, Maura just nodded silently. She was still trying to deal with everything facing her right now. About fifteen more minutes passed, with Jane whistling intermittently. Then, acutely aware of how close Maura was watching her, Jane started to put her hair up again. She carefully tucked her wide-brimmed hat over it, then gingerly pulled the fake mustache and goatee out of her pocket. It would probably be a good idea to pick up some more adhesive soon, but she didn't need much right now: she wouldn't need this disguise in good old Hollow Creek. Wiping the sweat off her face with the back of her sleeve, Jane carefully reapplied the fake facial hair.

"How's it look?" she asked Maura.

"Quite convincing," Maura replied, surprised at how credible the disguise actually was. "Although the mustache…"

"What, is it cockeyed again?" Jane laughed, trying to feel it. "I usually have Frost help me out." She nodded and leaned forward. "Would you fix it straight? Come on," she laughed, sensing Maura's hesitancy. "We're all girls together."

Maura leaned forward as well to meet Jane halfway, and raised a trembling hand to the other woman's mouth. Her gloves with thin enough that they didn't encumber her fingers from properly smoothing out the mustache so that it sat on a straight line. She tried to pull back as soon as the job was done, but Jane caught her at the wrist. Maintaining eye contact, Jane pressed her lips briefly against the back of Maura's gloved hand.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," she said. Then she straightened up, knocking on the roof of the carriage again. "Driver!" she called out. "Let's stop here." In a quieter voice, she spoke to Maura: "It's about ten miles to town from here, I reckon. Hope I'll see you around."

She exited the carriage as Frost climbed down, and they mounted their faithful horses. "You from Hollow Creek?" Frost asked Crowe.

"I been living there two years."

"Two years? That's an awful long time," said Jane. "Might be a good idea to try settling some place else, wouldn't it?"

After a long silence, Crowe said, "I got a sister in Flagstaff."

"A sister in Flagstaff! Well, well, don't keep her waiting! I'd say you oughtta head on out there tomorrow—today, if you can!" Jane said, sounding cheerful. "We'll even give you a runnin' start. You tell anyone in Hollow Creek that you seen us, and they won't have a body to bury."

On that happy note, she and Frost rode quickly ahead, leaving behind one terrified driver and one terribly confused doctor.

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><p><strong>AN**: No, I haven't forgotten about my other stories. Just trying to gauge general interest here...


	2. Hollow Creek

Given that they had nearly been robbed by a pair of famous outlaws, Crowe found Maura's total lack of fear to be confusing, and her cheerfulness slightly off-putting. They had reached town, and as Crowe unloaded her bags and led her to the house she'd be staying at, Maura could not contain her excitement. "Look, a tumbleweed!" "Look, a jackrabbit!" "Look, a person of Mexican descent! Or—is that an Indian? It's difficult to tell from here. Can you—"

"Ma'am?" Crowe said, dropping Maura's luggage on the porch of a very stately looking house.

"Yes?" she asked innocently.

"I know you're new to these parts, so you may not be aware that we are lucky to have just made it to town with our lives," Crowe said seriously. "Jake Wyatt don't mess around. You'd do best to make sure and steer clear of him while he's here, and good luck. Now I've got to pack up and head out to Flagstaff before he comes back to kill me, so God bless, and have a happy life with Mr. Fairfield. Give him my regards!"

"Thank you for the ride!" Maura called after Crowe's quickly retreating figure. Pitying the man, she turned to look at the front door of the house she had arrived at. It was far too large to be just one person's home; it must have been a boarding house: the building was three stories high, each window covered by ornate green shutters that contrasted oddly with the bright pink color of the walls. Just as she was wondering where she might find someone to help her with her bags, the humongous front double-doors were flung open.

A short, red-headed woman with a sort of pinched face came striding out to meet Maura. "Miss Isles?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"What a pleasure to finally meet you! Mr. Fairfield has told us so much about you. Come in, come in, come in!" As she talked, she gathered all of Maura's suitcases, grabbing some by the handles and tucking the others under her arms.

"Oh, please, let me help you," Maura said, trying to take one of the bags, but the smaller woman ducked out of her way and headed back inside.

"No, no, I'll have none of that!" she trilled, inexplicably peppy even as she struggled to maintain her balance. "If you'll just follow me to your room…! You're on the second floor, here."

Maura cautiously followed her gracious hostess up the stairs, preparing herself in case one of the bags dislodged or, heaven forbid, the woman lost her balance and tumbled backwards into Maura. But miraculously they made it to the second floor unscathed, and the redheaded woman marched down the hallway to the third room and kicked its door open. She immediately dropped Maura's bags (albeit as gently as possible), and tried to collect her breath. Maura couldn't help thinking to herself that this might have been easier to achieve if the woman's corset hadn't been pulled quite so tightly—it was so close-fitting that it had pushed up what Maura considered to be a slightly inappropriate amount of décolletage.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" the woman laughed. She held out a tiny hand, her glove considerably more worn than Maura's. "I'm Melody."

"Melody! What a lovely name. It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you! Welcome to our establishment."

Not having expected much, Maura had to admit she was pleasantly surprised by the accommodations of the room. A very sizeable bed was in one corner, adorned with enough pillows to have sustained a large family, and the cream-colored sheets reminded Maura of the ones she'd owned in Boston. The farthest, longest wall of the room was unadorned with any art, but the elongated window offered a picturesque view of the town that to Maura was just as beautiful as any painting (and it also brought in a much-needed breeze). Near the door was a nicely-sized writing desk, accompanied by a tall wooden chair, a mirror, and a kerosene lamp. Melody led Maura across the floor, over a lovely imported carpet, pointing out a generous closet on her way to a smaller room. She opened the door and Maura gasped softly in delight. A pearl-white vanity and mirror stretched the distance of the room, which felt a bit cramped due to the extravagant bathtub that sat in the middle.

Melody explained, "Mr. Fairfield had that delivered especially for you! Said it was a delicacy you folks out in Boston are accustomed to. Your neighbor has one as well, and we send somebody up with water three evenings a week. I'll ask them to do the same for you, Miss Isles. And if you ever feel nature is calling…" She laughed airily, walking back into the main room. "Just direct yourself towards the small blue cabin behind the boarding house. Be careful to take a candle with you at night—you never can be too sure a rattler hasn't found its way in there."

"A rattler?" Maura asked.

"No rattlesnakes in Boston?" Melody teased her.

"Snakes?"

"Oh, yes. But don't worry. You can usually hear a rattlesnake coming, 'cause it shakes that music-maker tail as a warning! Yes, ma'am. Well, Miss Isles, how do you like the room?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Maura gushed. "Simply divine. I love it."

"I'm so glad!" Melody said, clasping her hands together and looking genuinely pleased. "Let's see now—Mr. Fairfield has paid your rent, so there's no need to worry about that, and that includes meals, as well. This ain't a finishing school, so we don't insist on your dining with us," she added with a laugh, "but Mr. Fairfield let us know that if midnight passes and you aren't back at the boarding house, we are to reprimand you."

Maura chuckled. "Well, he certainly doesn't need to worry himself about that! New town at night …I wouldn't know where to go!"

"Welcome to Hollow Creek, Miss Isles. If there's anything I can do to help you, just let me know!"

Melody was already on her way out the door when Maura said, "Actually—yes. You see, I ride, but I was naturally unable to bring my horse with me from Boston. Do happen to know where I might—"

"Oh, yes! Now I remember," Melody said, walking back into the room. "Mr. Fairfield said that if he were at work, the first thing you'd like to do once you got here was get up on a horse! Yes, you'll want to see the Sheriff about that."

"The Sheriff?" Maura asked, surprised.

"Yes! Sheriff Korsak. He's a mighty fine man, Miss Isles." And something about the way Melody said this made Maura wonder if perhaps there was some kind of history there. But it would be far too indecorous to ask, and besides, she was usually wrong when it came to guessing that kind of thing anyway. Melody cleared her throat and continued: "He also has what you might call a soft spot for animals. Cultivates horses in his spare time. Mr. Fairfield has already told him you'd be coming, and that you'd be wantin' a steed for yourself, so you'd best go see him about it."

"And where might I find the Sheriff?"

Melody crossed over to the window, poking her head outside of it, encouraging Maura to do the same. Pointing left, she said, "Right next to our boarding house here is the general store, then that there's the textile building, the lumber store, the canteen, and —well, anyhow, that's the Sheriff's office way down at the end of the road."

Maura narrowed her eyes, trying to refine her vision enough to see through the light haze of red dust. "The short, brown building?"

"That's right, Miss Isles!"

"Thank you, Melody!"

With a small curtsy, Melody smiled and exited the room. Maura figured this would probably be a good time to unpack everything, but she was too keyed up to do something so dull. What she wanted to do most of all was explore the town, but she figured Garrett would most likely want to escort her while she did so (he _had _mentioned that there were some seedy areas to avoid). Off to the Sherriff it was, then. One of Maura's larger pieces of luggage had held an English saddle, because as thrilled as she was to be out West, she had read and studied enough to know which comforts from home she was going to definitely need.

So with her saddle slung over one arm and a parasol hooked over the other, Maura headed back down the stairs and out to start the next chapter in her life. The sunlight was nearly blinding, and she opened the parasol as soon as she had walked out from under the awning on the boarding house's porch. She was turning plenty of heads as she strolled down the dusty road, but was so invested in soaking up the atmosphere that she hardly noticed. Whenever someone caught her eye, Maura would grin, and they would return it. Looking resplendent in a finely made pale pink dress, a black and red riding cap, and crisp white gloves, holding up a periwinkle blue parasol, Maura was easily the classiest woman any of these people had seen. Most had gotten accustomed to the second-tier materials they could afford out in the rural part of the United States, forgetting what a high-society lady from Boston might actually look like. Nobody gave her any trouble, though. That smile wasn't proud. It was heartfelt.

More than one man had stopped to offer to carry her saddle for her, but she had politely declined. Seeing Melody clamber up two flights with all of her boarder's luggage had inspired Maura to want to become less dependent. She was incredibly naïve in this regard, but she wanted to fit in: if a frontier woman carried her own saddle, that's what Maura wanted to do. Besides, the walk was short enough that the saddle didn't weigh her down too much. In no time at all, she was outside the Sheriff's office. Still so eager and alight with childlike wonder, Maura forgot her manners and walked inside without knocking or announcing her presence, which she quickly gathered was a mistake.

Jane was there, leaning over a table and studying a large map closely with an older, distinguished looking gentleman. At the sound of the door opening, both of them had looked up: the older man was clearly shocked as he scrambled to roll up the map, but Jane merely smiled.

"I can't believe what things are coming to!" gasped the man, presumably the Sheriff. "Jake Wyatt back in our territory! What the—"

"Relax, Korsak, she knows," Jane said, lazily tipping back in her chair and putting her boots up on the table.

"Oh," Korsak sighed, his expression immediately neutralized.

"_He_ knows?" Maura asked.

"Yeah, of course," Jane said, sparing her a glance.

"You told me nobody in Hollow Creek knew."

"Whoops, that was a lie." Jane closed one eye and mimed shooting Korsak with her index finger. "Ole Sheriff Korsak here _has_ to be in on it."

"Wait," Korsak said. "How exactly do you two know each other?" He sighed heavily when Jane just smirked. "Did you hold her up?"

"Held up some jackass-rabbit named Crowe," Jane replied. "'Scuse me," she added to Maura, apologizing again for her language. "He happened to be driving her carriage into town from Mesa."

"Crowe?"

"Yup. Don't worry, though. He's suddenly been overcome with an unstoppable passion to fulfill his lifelong dream of movin' to Flagstaff."

Rolling his eyes, Korsak turned to Maura. "I'm sorry, Miss. How may I help you?"

Maura had since closed her parasol and lay it on top of her saddle on the surprisingly clean floor. Gesturing towards it, she said, "Well Sheriff, I—"

"What's _that_ dude contraption?" Jane asked, nodding at the saddle as if she had just realized it was there.

"An English saddle," Maura responded. "I refuse point-blank to learn to ride one of those _western_ things."

Jane stared at her. "You ever seen a horse laugh?"

Maura raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Well you're going to," Jane chuckled, pulling her hat further down to cover her face, as if she were about to doze off.

Korsak knocked Jane's hat off her head, causing it to fly off and stay slung across her neck thanks only to a thin rope Maura had just noticed was there to keep it in place. "What's the matter with you, Jane? And get your boots off the table, this here's a lady!"

"And what am I?" Jane asked, grinning wickedly as she folded her arms and merely crossed her legs, keeping her feet on the table.

"A female," Korsak snidely replied, earning him a low chuckle. He turned to Maura once more, jabbing his thumb at Jane. "You'll have to excuse the manners of our friend Calamity Jane back there."

"Calamity?" Maura asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well. How'd she earn such a distinguished title?"

Right on cue, Jane leaned her chair back just a tad too far, and fell with a loud crashing sound to the floor. Without turning around, Korsak said, "That."

"I see," Maura said, frowning slightly. Apparently it would wound Jane's pride too much to get up; she remained sitting in the chair on her back, arms still resolutely folded, as if she had planned on falling like that. Shaking her head, Maura said, "Well, sir, I'm Maura Isles."

"Oh, you're Miss Isles!" Korsak said, suddenly appearing quite happy. He took two quick strides closer and eagerly reached for Maura's hand, bowing slightly to kiss the back of it. "Fairfield said you'd be showing up to our humble town soon. Said you were the brightest girl he knew, and I was to set you up with—"

"A horse?" Maura asked eagerly.

"Dr. Byron." This elicited a round of wild laughter from Jane, and Korsak finally twisted back to look at her. "Will get your scrawny ass off the floor? You're making a fool of yourself."

"Language, Sheriff," Jane sniggered, obediently getting to her feet. "You're in the presence of a lady."

"I apologize, Miss Isles," Korsak said, looking as though he meant it (but also as though he'd like to give Jane a swift kick in the pants).

"And you're saying it wrong, Korsak," Jane said, adjusting the belt that had shifted slightly when she'd fallen. "It's not Miss. It's _Dr_. Isles."

"Yes, about that," Korsak said, looking at Maura. "Fairfield mentioned you have a penchant for medicine. It may not be…" He wavered, surveying Maura's uptown attire and finally landing on the word "_conventional_ …to have a lady medical practitioner, but we can't afford to be turn our noses up at things like that out here. Dr. Byron has long been in need of an assistant, and said he would be more than pleased to take you on."

Maura gave him a brilliant smile. "Oh, how wonderful! My father was a doctor before he passed on—"

"God rest his soul," Korsak sighed.

"—thank you—and see, well, he didn't have any sons to pass on the practice to, so he thought I might be interested in learning. I've been in his operating room since I was a young girl."

"We don't need more doctors out here," Jane snorted. "We need more priests."

"Don't pay her any attention," Korsak said, though Maura still looked offended. "What she means is that most people out here, well …if they're injured, more often than not they're dead, too."

"Oh," Maura said softly. "But it happens that that's one of my specialties, Sheriff. Given enough time with a dead body, I can usually tell with great accuracy what it was that finished them off."

Trying not to laugh, Jane said, "Okay there, Dr. Isles. If you feel confident enough in being able to tell us the difference between a gunshot wound to the heart and a gunshot wound to the head, we'd sure be mighty grateful."

"Mr. Wyatt, how would you like to spend the night in a cell?"

"Sheriff Korsak, how would you like a jailbreak?"

"Apologize. Now."

Jane sighed and walked over to Maura. Truth be told, it made her feel bad to see that the woman looked genuinely hurt—after spending so much time around Frost, Korsak, and crooks, Jane forgot how her caustic sense of humor might actually offend somebody. "I'm sorry," she said in a deep voice, looking and sounding sincere. "I tend to admire in others what I lack in myself, and I know you must be mighty intelligent, Dr. Isles. I respect that, I really do. I was just havin' a laugh earlier, that's all. Didn't mean to make ya feel bad."

"Badly," Maura said, still frowning.

"What?"

"Feel badly. That's the correct grammar."

Korsak stepped in front of Jane, who looked as though she didn't even know the meaning of the word grammar. "Dr. Isles, you ever done any teaching before?"

"Why no, Sheriff."

"You ought to consider it. We used to have a lady down here teach night classes for our less, well, educated adults," he said, shooting Jane a look. "She got married last month and moved to Kansas City. We could sure use a replacement if you'd care to fill in—until you and Fairfield get hitched, that is."

"Thank you, Sheriff, I'll consider it," Maura said, overwhelmed but pleased by the fact that she'd been in town for less than an hour and already had two jobs waiting for her. "But actually, the reason I came down to your office was because I hear you're the man to see about getting a horse."

"That reminds me," Jane said, patting Korsak's shoulder. "A dog walks over to a horse and says, 'hey friend, why the long face?'"

The joke sent her and Korsak into peals of laughter, while Maura stood by uncertainly. Once the giggling had subsided, she launched into a very long-winded explanation of equine facial bone structure and why the horse's face would be long. After her mini-lecture, Korsak turned to Jane and said, "Is _that_ the end of the joke?"

"If it ain't, it should be," Jane said, grinning at Maura.

"Miss Isles, I'd be happy to show you my horses later this afternoon," Korsak said. "As it is, I don't like to leave the jail unattended, and my deputy won't be in for another hour or so."

"Who's your deputy, Korsak?" Jane asked curiously.

"Joseph Grant."

"_Grant? _That son of a—prairie…dog?" Jane hollered, only stopping herself from swearing just in time. "Korsak!"

"What? He's good at what he does," Korsak said, giving Jane a shove towards the door. "If you're going to continue to insult my hired help, you can go join Frost at Angela's. You'll give Miss Isles the wrong idea about my judgment."

"Your judgment's about as good as my reading," Jane grumbled.

"And yet I work with you anyway," Korsak sighed. He shook his head, then nodded at Maura, who had been heading for the door as well. "You like dogs?"

"Sorry?"

"Dogs. Or, hold on. Where are you staying?"

"Melody's boarding house."

Korsak's features darkened. "Oh. Miss Melody, eh? Thinks her place is too good for animals. My dog had a litter a while back, and I'm still trying to get rid of some of the puppies. When you come back about that horse, be sure and ask Fairfield to come with you—maybe he'll take one off my hands!"

"Tell ya what, old man, I'll take one for ya," Jane said.

"You'd better take good care of it, Jane," Korsak said warningly. "Take a look and see if you can handle it. They're just around the back. You go ahead and take a gander too, Miss Isles. They're mighty cute!"

Hooking her thumbs through two belt loops, Jane led the way around the small building, kicking various pebbles in her path. Maura followed behind, walking noiselessly in comparison to the small ruckus Jane caused each time she put a foot down. True to Korsak's word, when they reached the back of the building it was to see a pen filled with four puppies and a very tired looking dog.

"What kind of breed is that?" Maura asked, looking bemused.

"Hollow Creek mutt," Jane laughed, crouching down to get a better look at the puppies. She guessed that they might have been just over a month old at best, maybe two, and already seemed to have developed their own little personalities. "Which one do you like?" Jane asked, looking up at Maura.

"Well…to be perfectly honest, Jane, I don't much care for dogs."

"What? How could that be?" Jane asked, looking nothing short of scandalized at this information.

"Oh, I like them all right, particularly at this stage," Maura said, "I just could never bring myself to own one. My neighbor had a very temperamental bulldog that once tried to take a bite of me."

"You poor thing," Jane chuckled, not unkindly. "Well, maybe you'd best stick to horses, then. I think I'll go for…this one." She stood up and reached inside the pen for the nearest puppy, which had been standing on its hind legs and poking its nose through the wooden slats in an attempt to get closer to Jane. "Atta girl, come on," Jane laughed, picking it up and bringing it out of the pen. "Yes, you're a cute fella, ain't ya?" Lifting the puppy under its two front legs, Jane held it up in front of her, using it to block the sun. "Think ya can keep up with me?" The puppy squirmed, and when Jane lowered it slightly, it immediately started licking her face.

"I think she likes you," Maura laughed.

"Yah, but can she keep up is the question," Jane said, also laughing. She set the little dog down by her feet and watched in amusement as it started to sniff her boots, then walk circles around her. Jane slowly started walking away, and it followed it her. She kicked a pebble at it with the heel of her shoe, and though she heard Maura gasp, the dog stumbled out of the rock's way and continued to follow Jane.

"You could've hurt it!" Maura protested lightly.

"If she comes with me, there's a chance she'll get hurt," Jane said, turning back around. She lay herself flat down on the ground, propping herself up on her elbows to see right in the dog's eyes. It started licking her face, and Jane tried to turn away. The dog would not be denied until Jane reached out and physically clamped it down, so that it would stay still long enough for her to really look at it. "Yup. She's gonna be mine," Jane decided. "The problem is, I ain't no good at picking names."

"You've had experience?"

"That's the thing. Growin' up, I had a dog named Dog and a cat named Kitten."

"Oh, you're right, that wouldn't do at all for this one," Maura said, mimicking Jane's style of humor by pretending to treat the situation with utmost gravity. Jane squinted up at her, appreciating the gesture. "She needs a fine, sophisticated name."

"Sophisticated?" Jane asked, sounding wary.

"Yes, something regal, like maybe…Josephine!" Maura suggested.

"_Jo_sephine?" Jane cried, looking for all the world as if Maura had just suggested they drown the rest of the puppies in a creek.

"You don't like it?"

"It's…ugh, _Josephine?_"

"Well it's your dog, not mine. You choose something else."

Jane frowned and looked back at the puppy. "Josephine?" she whispered. The dog perked up, and Jane wished she could read its thoughts. "Jo?" she tried. It barked. "Did ya hear that?" Jane hollered, smiling hugely and jumping to her feet. "She likes it! Jo!"

"Jo?" Maura asked, and now the dog turned to look up at her, tail wagging.

"Don't sound so disapproving, it was _your _idea," Jane pointed out.

"I suggested Josephine. Jo is so…so…short and masculine," Maura said.

"Well I like it," Jane said, bending down to pick up the puppy again. "Jo and Jane."

"Two girls without a last name," Maura said.

Not sure why the naming thing was such a big issue for Maura, Jane said, "Fine. Jo's too short, and I don't like Josephine, so we'll give her a last name. What day of the week is it?"

"Friday."

"Jo Friday!"

Maura sighed, then paused to consider it. That was actually a fairly decent name. It had a nice ring to it. Jane could sense Maura's approval, and shot her a smug grin, causing Maura to walk past her and say, "It sounds like an outlaw's name."

"Well then, she's in good company, ain't she?" Jane asked, catching up. "Look out, or she might try to take a bite of ya!"

"For goodness' sake, don't do that!" Maura said, veering out of the way in a very unladylike fashion when Jane pretended to toss Jo at her.

"Do you know where you're going?" Jane asked.

"I…um…" That was actually a very good point.

"Come with me, if you like," Jane said, taking a turn down a small side street. "I'm going to go meet up with Frost at Angela's. It's a… sort of a…"

"Saloon?" Maura pressed her.

"I guess you could call it that, yeah."

"I'm not sure I should…"

"Come on, Maura, I ain't gonna bite ya. Don't you trust me?"

She had turned around to face Maura to ask the question, and something caused a small tremor to go down Maura's spine. It was hard to know why exactly she was suddenly struck just then by Jane's handsomeness, but there it was: dark, scraggly hair fell unkempt to the middle of her back; hair the same color as large brown, hooded eyes that were both playful and serious. A very strong chin and prominent cheekbones reminded Maura of some of the European statues she had studied in school. Despite Jane's slender figure (and the fact that she was holding a puppy, of all things), she radiated a very dominant, intimidating energy …part of which may have had something to do with the gun sticking out of her the holster that was lazily slung around a thin hip. Maura had never seen anybody like her. But…

"Do I…_trust_ you?" she finally choked out, fully aware and embarrassed of the fact that she had taken an abnormally long time to answer. "I don't even know who you are, aside from the fact that I first met you when you were masquerading as a man, tried to hold up my carriage, threatened my driver so badly he's fleeing town, _and_ you have an problem with the Sheriff's deputy. Have I left anything out?"

"Yes," Jane said dryly, turning around again to continue walking towards her destination. "You know my dog's name is secretly Josephine."


	3. Angela's Place

**A/N**: Thank you for your reviews, everybody! They really do mean a lot and are so gratifying to read. I'm so glad there's interest in this story. I've had it in my head for a while now, and it's been great fun getting it out. I'm weirdly fascinated with how women in this time period might handle their sexuality, particularly gay women, I should say. We've seen plenty of male homoeroticism in Westerns, and I guess I wanted to play the opposite side of that. Because yes, this will ultimately be a Rizzles story. Hoyt's the only other character who has yet to be introduced, although I admit I do like the idea of throwing Bass in here somewhere, haha. Also, I borrowed a joke in this chapter from a fantastic non-Western movie called "What's Up, Doc?" and highly recommend checking it out.

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><p>Jane turned when she realized Maura was following her. Raising her eyebrows, she said, "Don't have anywhere better to go?"<p>

"Well, my fiancee is still at work..."

"Who _is_ your fiancee, anyhow?"

"You wouldn't know him; he just got here. Garrett Fairfield."

"Good name," Jane said, idly stroking Jo's back. "Look, I told ya, Maura. I like you. It ain't my business to humiliate or embarrass people I like. If you ain't comfortable at Angela's, I'll take ya some place else. But Angela's saloon- it's okay. Got a special entrance for ladies and all that."

Maura considered it a moment longer, then nodded and said, "It won't kill me to get some exposure, right?"

With a smile whose integrity Maura would later question, Jane said, "Right. Follow me." She set Jo back down on the dusty street, pleased by how the puppy would bound forward a bit, but always circle around back to Jane, waiting to follow her. Similarly, Maura had a tendency to get distracted by all the newness and exciting atmosphere that was still so fresh to her, and Jane found it necessary to constantly call Maura back to keep her on the correct path. The street to Angela's was relatively uncrowded, which Jane figured was probably just as well; she didn't want to get caught by throngs of people pressing her for information on where she'd been lately. She knew she'd get enough of that at the saloon. Soon enough, they had reached it: the building was two stories tall, painted a garish shade of orange that was strangely inviting. From inside came the sounds of general, slightly-raucous merrymaking: boisterous laughter, a tinkling piano, and the intermittent bang, which signaled either a glass, a chair, or a person being dropped loudly. All in all, the noise easily overpowered the surprisingly small front doors. Their size led Maura to assumed it would be the women's entrance.

"No, no," Jane said when Maura headed to walk through them. She gently took Maura by the elbow, leading her around the building to the side. "That's for the men."

"But the doors are so small," Maura said. "I assumed that made them more womanly."

"Nah," Jane scoffed. "See, putting a man in front of small doors makes him look big by comparison. Big and intimidating, get it? On the other hand, you put a small, dainty thing like yourself in front of _these_ doors..." She waved to the green, rather large swinging doors they had just reached. "And it makes you look feminine and tiny."

"Oh!" Maura said, smiling with comprehension. "I see. Shall we go inside?"

Jane had to grin at Maura's sudden interest. "Let's shall. Oh, wait. I've got a better idea." She walked up close to the door, knowing Jo would eagerly follow her. "Go on," she encouraged the dog, pointing inside. "Go on in, Jo! Go in!" When the puppy just continued to sit and stare at her, Jane gave her a little shove towards the door. That gave Jo the cue, and she skipped happily inside. Straightening up, Jane flashed a grin and held up a hand to Maura. "Wait for it..."

A moment later, they heard a crashing sound followed by a loud shriek from inside the saloon. "Whose dog is that?" came a loud, brash female voice. It reminded Maura of the accents she had heard during one of her trips to New York City. "Who let a dog in here?"

Signaling for Maura to follow, Jane swung the saloon doors open. Jo was standing guiltily near a pile of broken glass, which appeared to have once been a bunch of glasses a short, middle-aged woman had let fall off a tray. Eliciting gasps of recognition from various men as she walked over, Jane said, "Gee, Ma, is that how you greet the newest member of my family?"

Angela, who had been kneeling on the floor to collect the glass, looked up immediately at the sound of that familiar voice. It inexplicably brought a smile to Maura's face when she saw the woman shriek again, this time in obvious happiness, and she launched herself up off the floor and threw her arms around Jane. They hugged tightly on the spot for several moments, swaying, and Angela looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment.

"It's Jane!" she needlessly announced to the other patrons of the saloon. "My Janie's back!"

"Ma," Jane groaned, though she smiled when they pulled apart.

"Oh, darling, it's so good to see you! You look wonderful! You..." Angela glanced over at Maura, who had been standing by the door watching this scene of unexpected affection. Though the proprietress was only just noticing her, Maura had attracted plenty of attention already from the men at the bar (she noticed that all of the other patrons were, indeed, men). "Janie, who's your friend?"

"This is Jo Friday, my- oh, you mean Maura," Jane said, winking at Maura to let her know she was joking. "This is Dr. Maura isles, she's new in town. She's going to be the doctor's new assistant."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Angela gasped, running forward to embrace Maura as well. "Between you and me, doc, I think it's about time we got a lady doctor in these parts. Dr. Byron's good, but he don't know too much about the female f-"

"Angela," Jane said in a warning tone of voice. "Don't overwhelm her, please. This is her first day in the west."

"Really! Where did you come from?"

"Boston," Maura replied. "And if it wouldn't be too impertinent to ask, Angela, where are you from, originally?"

With a reminiscent laugh, Angela said, "I grew up in Long Island, but I came out here with my husband about twenty years ago. Pretty soon after we got here I lost him and both my kids, but I was all right soon enough." Her tone led Maura to believe that this was something Angela had shared enough times that it didn't bother or depress her anymore. Putting an arm around Jane, Angela smilingly continued: "Then this ragamuffin and her brothers needed someone to keep 'em in line, and it's as if I was born again! I tell you, Jane, it breaks my heart every time you leave here. How long are you aiming to stay this time?"

Jane shrugged once Angela had released her. "Not sure, Ma. It depends."

A slightly intoxicated gentleman wandered over just then, leering at Maura. "Hey, Jane," he said with a sleazy grin. "Who did you say your friend was, here?"

"Back off, Dean," Jane growled, stepping in front of Maura and giving the man's shoulder a light shove. "She's engaged."

"How lovely! To who?" Angela asked.

"Garrett Fairfield," Maura replied, sparing an uneasy glance for Dean, who was now grimacing and walking back to his table.

Angela looked very impressed. "Mr. Fairfield! Ain't been in town long, but I'd say he's already built up quite a reputation!"

"What kind of reputation?" Jane asked quickly.

"Supposed to brilliant," Angela said with a shrug. "He's in...what's he do, Dr. Isles?"

"He's in finance."

"Lord knows I never had much of a head for that!" Angela laughed. "That's why Frankie always has t- oh, Janie! The boys will be so thrilled to see you!"

"Where are they?" Jane asked, really looking around the saloon for the first time.

"There was some kind of critter getting into the chicken house, and they're setting a trap for it," Angela said. "Come to think of it, they should've been back by now... anyway, they'll be around soon! Can I get you two ladies something to drink?" She turned to the bar, but noting Maura's many layers of petticoats, figured a chair might be more comfortable, so she gestured to a nearby empty table instead.

Jane pulled a chair out for Maura before settling into another one, adopting the same pose she had in Korsak's station: boots up on the table (earning her a good-natured "tsk!" from Angela), but now with Jo sitting on her lap. "I'll take whatever beer you've got, Ma, and...what for you, Maura? Sarsaparilla? It ain't got any alcohol in it," she explained, sensing Maura's hesitancy.

"Sounds wonderful," Maura said.

"Janie, just make sure you keep a close eye on that dog," Angela sighed, walking behind the bar to get the drinks. "The last thing I need around here is more trouble."

"Don't worry, Ma, Jo's well-behaved!" Jane laughed, picking up the puppy again and holding her up, face-to-face. "Ain't ya, girl? Yes you are!"

"Aw, Jane, that's sort of sweet!" Angela chuckled, causing Jane to immediately try and stifle her grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane muttered, hastily setting Jo down on the floor. "Korsak said Frost was here?"

"He's a dear, and offered to go fix my carriage; one of the wheels is falling off," Angela said, returning with two overflowing flagons and setting them heavily down in front of the two women.

Jane sat up a little straighter, taking her mug in hand and bumping it against Maura's. "Cheers!"

"What shall we drink to?" Maura asked.

"Sorry?" Jane said, pausing with the glass by her lips.

"You know, what do we drink to?"

"She means something to wish well for," Angela explained.

"Oh. Okay. Let's drink to you then," Jane suggested. "Maura Isles, may you find and succeed at everything you're looking for out here in the west."

"Thank you," was all Maura could think to say. Her eyes widened when Jane threw her head back and started chugging the beer, to the awe and delight of several men around her. When she had downed half of the tall glass, she released a satisfied "ahhh!", wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Angela lightly whipped her shoulder with a tightly-wound rag, chastising her for acting so boorishly in a lady's presence. "You too, Ma? Everybody's been on my back for actin' rude in front of Maura, here. Don't it matter that I'm a woman, too?"

Dean spoke up from a few tables away. "You may be a woman, Jane, but you ain't no lady."

Jane half-turned in her chair as if to respond to this, then seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble. Besides, "I guess he's right," she said with a shrug.

"Dr. Isles, maybe you can teach Janie here how to act more like a lady," Angela said wistfully, sitting down on the chair between them. "God knows I've tried these last twenty years to get her to be one, but she's dead set on her own stubborn ways!" It was clearly a battle Angela didn't mind losing, or had just given up hope on and moved on with her life, because she was patting Jane's arm affectionately. There was only light exasperation in her voice when she said, "Jane's always gotta be doing her own thing, but you know what? Lord help me, I love her anyway."

"Aw, shucks, Ma," Jane said. "You're gonna make me blush."

Just then, the front doors to the saloon banged open, and two very robust young men rushed inside, looking very pleased with themselves. One of them looked to Maura like a younger, male version of Jane, and when she glanced at Jane's expression, deduced that these must be her brothers. This educated guess was verified when the boys caught sight of Jane, and rushed towards her, hollering with joy. Jane stood up to meet them, and they grabbed her in a simultaneous embrace that was so powerful it knocked her off her feet. All three fell to the floor, Jo bounding in an excited circle around them as the boys shouted Jane's name in disbelief.

"Ma! You knew she was coming here?" asked the younger one, the one who looked like Jane.

"I've known for all of five minutes!" Angela laughed.

"Tommy, come on, get up off of me," Jane chuckled, shoving him away enough to get back to her feet. "Aw, look at you, though," she said, patting his cheek. "You really grew up while I been gone, didn't ya? And you too, Frankie! Come here, both of ya." She embraced them tightly, overcome with sudden emotion at seeing her beloved brothers again after so long. It didn't matter who was watching- she was too happy to see the boys to care. When they pulled apart after a very long hug, she noticed Tommy looking curiously at the woman who was seated at the same table Jane had been. "Oh, look at me," she said, following his gaze. "All it takes for me to lose my manners is... well, anything, but you two are particularly distracting. Maura, these are my brothers, Frankie and Tommy. Boys, this here's Dr. Maura Isles."

On instinct, Maura extended her hand palm-down to be kissed, but with a jovial "Good to know ya!", Frankie just grabbed her hand and shook it. She was startled, but got over it quickly, smiling as she returned the sentiment. Tommy practically elbowed his brother aside to shake Maura's hand with both of his own, holding it a bit longer than was necessary. There was a blazing look in his eye that nearly made Maura blush, it was so intense. When Jane brought over two more chairs, Tommy and Frankie settled themselves on either side of Maura. Angela chastised them for wearing their hats indoors, and while Frankie was cowed and pushed his back off his head, Tommy just smirked and cocked his a little to the side.

"Dr. Isles, huh?" Tommy asked. "Are you by chance Dr. Byron's new help?"

"Why yes, I believe so," Maura said. "How did you-?"

"I just seen him for some help with my foot," Tommy answered, giving his boot a shake for emphasis. "Don't mind saying I'd have liked _you _to work on it, though."

"_I_ mind ya sayin' it," Jane said, though she couldn't make herself too stern towards her younger brother. "You shouldn't speak that way to a lady, especially an engaged one."

Tommy looked a little put out at this information, but tried not to show it. "Engaged, hm? That why you come out here?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"When you getting married?" asked Frankie.

"Once my fiance has accrued enough money to support us both," Maura replied. "He's difficult to satisfy, so it may take a few months before he feels comfortable enough with what he has to share it fully with me. But I couldn't wait to get out here. Things were getting too dull and dreary back in Boston for me to take it anymore."

"Well things sure ain't ever dull around here!" Tommy laughed. "That's for damn sure!"

"Language, Tommy!" Angela chided him. "And Janie, get your boots off the table! Don't any of you know the meaning of propriety?"

"No," the three siblings answered in unison.

Maura stepped in with the answer: "It's a noun that refers to conformity to established standards of behavior or manner, suitability, rightness, or justice. See 'etiquette.'"

The four of them stared at her in long, uncomfortable silence until Jane finally said, "Huh. Dictionary mouth. You could come in real handy, Maura." Leaning forward across the table, she said put her chin on her hand and said, "I'm curious. You obviously spent a lot of time developing that big brain of yours. What do you do for that body?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, do you ever do anything to develop that skinny, corseted body of yours?"

"Oh, you mean athletics? Well, I did bring my archery set with me."

"An archer! Perfect. You'll have to come with me the next time I go through Indian territory."

"Oh no," Frankie said, getting up and putting an arm possessively around Jane's shoulder. "You ain't leavin' us any time soon, sis."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see. Any of you know where Garrett Fairfield happens to work?"

"That money guy?" Frankie asked. "Sure, he bought Stanley's old place."

"OH!" Angela suddenly shouted, causing Maura to jump and nearly slop a bunch of sarsaparilla down her front. "Don't say that man's name in here!"

"What's the problem, Ma?" Jane asked. "If Fairfield bought his place, don't that mean Stanley is gone?"

"No, it means Stanley moved shop," Angela growled. Pointing exaggeratedly towards the front of her saloon, Angela said, "He had the nerve to open his own newer, bigger tavern right across the street from me! I don't know how I'm going to afford to keep up with him, Janie. He's started serving food and he's got- he's got-"

"Showgirls," Frankie and Tommy sighed dreamily.

"I'll bet his food stinks a mile a minute," Jane said. "I'll go in there and-"

"Oh no, Jane, not you," Frankie said. "Stanley don't let women into his place, unless they're puttin' on a show."

Maura expected Jane to say something along the lines of Jake Wyatt going in there, but Jane merely frowned and folded her arms. "Aw, what does he know, anyway. You've got your loyal customers, Ma, don't worry." She stood up abruptly, saying, "Come on, Maura. I'll take you over to Fairfield's."

"But he's still working."

"Yeah I know, but I gotta go, and I don't trust these clowns to get you where you need to be in a timely manner," Jane said, nodding at her brothers. "Besides, you ain't seen this fella in months, right? He'll be tickled to see ya. Come on."

Though Jane's tone was light and unassuming, Maura got the strange impression that disobeying would be disastrous. Besides, if Jane was going, that would leave Maura alone in a bar full of men. Well, and Angela. Angela seemed all right. It was the thought of finally seeing Garrett again that got Maura to stand as well. She smiled when Frankie and Tommy stood up in a gesture of politeness. None of them noticed the smug look on Jane's face, which was there because it aroused a strange sort of pride or pleasure (or excitement?) to know that Maura would consider herself lost in this town without Jane. Tommy had always been a handsome kid, and he'd grown into a very good-looking young man. Too much so for his own good. Thoughtlessly walking out of the men's doors, Jane hoped she wouldn't have to worry about where Tommy's looks might land him. She could very easily imagine him getting into all sorts of trouble. Maura was right behind her, and nearly ran into her when Jane stopped suddenly on the saloon's porch.

"Guess that's Stanley's place," Jane said, looking at the very decorous establishment across the street. Lavish, striped awnings decorated every window, and a bevy of horses was tied to various objects just outside of it, hinting at the number of people inside. "Poor Ma. She never did like that guy." Jane noticed Angela's carriage, newly-fixed, but with no Frost. Narrowing her eyes, Jane nodded at Stanley's saloon and said, "Oh, there'll be hell to pay if I found out he went over _there_."

"Jane?" Maura said, following her as the taller woman started to stroll down the street. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Your brothers and Angela...do they know you're Jake Wyatt?"

Jane snorted, kicking a large rock out of her way (Jo went briefly chasing after it). "Of course not."

"Why does the Sheriff know and they don't? Who exactly _is _Jake Wyatt?"

"Maura, I can't tell you all that."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"You said you liked me. Shouldn't you tell secrets to people you like?"

Jane turned swiftly on the spot. "You should protect the people you like." An odd look passed between the two of them, as if they both were thinking that was a bit of an extreme statement to make, considering they had known each other only a few hours. Sparing a glance for the relentless sun, Jane awkwardly tried to change the subject: "That riding hat ain't gonna protect your skin too good. Where's your parasol, you leave it at the station? Wanna borrow my hat?"

"No, thank you," Maura said, a little surprised by this sudden change in conversation. "Don't you need it?"

Jane shrugged and kept walking. "Not really. Been burned before."

"Wait, I want to understand," Maura said, catching up again. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Pretend to be this man. How can people in Hollow Creek know you're friends with Frost, and know that Jake Wyatt's accomplice is a black man, and not draw some sort of connection?"

Letting out a bark of a laugh, Jane turned a corner down a significantly busier street. "People never know what to make of Frost when he's with Jake. Wanted posters look nothing like him. Half the time they make out he's some kind of Indian, or a Mexican, even. Don't pay no attention to who he is or what he really looks like. Besides, nobody would ever think I could possibly be a _man_, Maura."

"Are you always Jake Wyatt when you leave Hollow Creek?" Maura asked, her curiosity insatiable. "Where do Angela and your brothers think you are when you're not here?"

"They think...oh, look!" Jane said. They had just reached Stanley's old establishment, which recently had become Garrett Fairfield's insurance office. "Your fiance's probably right in there."

This was possibly the only thing that could have distracted Maura from her string of interrogative, Jake Wyatt-related questions. A wide grin broke onto her face at the thought of finally seeing Garrett again. "Oh, I hardly know what to do with myself! Do you think it's all right if I go inside unannounced? Goodness, I feel so nervous! I might just run in there and-I don't know, throw my arms around him!" she laughed, as if this was the most scandalously inappropriate thing she could imagine a person might do.

Chuckling at her adorable naivete, Jane put her hat back up on her head and started backing away. "Dr. Isles! Don't you know the meaning of propriety?"


	4. Save a Horse

**A/N**: Sorry it took a while to update! Life very obnoxiously got in the way. But I am still totally invested in writing this. Thanks for the support!

* * *

><p>Before walking into Garrett's establishment, Maura spent a needlessly long time watching Jane walk away. She didn't give herself the time to wonder or worry about why Jane fascinated her, but it was doubtless a fascination. It probably had something to do with the fact that Maura had done extensive research about the types of people she might encounter in the American west, and Jane did not fall into a single one of those categories. Maura had been prepared for sheriffs, for cattle ranchers, for saloon singers and outlaws, but not for a woman like Jane. She had even researched female sharpshooters (including some up-and-coming upstart named Annie Oakley), but aside from their proficiency with guns, those women remained utterly feminine. Jane dressed and swore like a man- heck, she apparently even spent much of her time pretending to actually <em>be <em>a man! There was nothing refined or ladylike about her; even the way she walked had a masculine bravado to it: her feet relatively apart, arms and shoulders sort of swinging confidently with every step. Her tall, snakeskin boots were mostly covered by fringed chaps and dusty denim pants, which Maura couldn't help noticing perfectly showcased what Korsak had referred to as Jane's "scrawny ass."

_What an exceptionally odd thing to notice_, Maura thought to herself, jumping slightly and finally turning to walk inside Garrett's office.

And there she was greeted by the most wonderful of distractions, namely her peerlessly handsome fiancé. Garrett looked up from his desk, ready to tell whoever it was that he was drowning in work, but a smile broke onto his weary countenance when he realized who it was. He jumped instantly to his feet and rushed over, grinning like a schoolboy at the gorgeous vision in front of him.

"Maura!" he gushed, taking both of her hands eagerly in his own, then kissing them rather hungrily. "Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes! Turn around, let me look at you! Ah," he sighed, as Maura obediently turned on the spot, ending with a small curtsy. "You're still the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Did you miss me?" Maura asked.

"You little imp, you know I missed you terribly!" laughed Garrett. "It's been awful only communicating through letters. I've yet to find another person out here to match your wit or your beauty. When did you get here?"

"I got into town an hour or two ago, I suppose."

"And what have you been doing since then?"

"Well after I got settled in at Melody's, I went to visit the Sheriff. I was hoping he could help me find a horse, but he said he couldn't leave until his deputy arrived, so I...I..." She tried quickly to gauge how Garrett would react if he found out she'd been in a saloon. When she stopped to think about it, the atmosphere _had _been a tad raunchy, but Angela was so sweet that it hadn't really phased Maura at the time. "The Sheriff introduced me to a woman. A woman named Jane. Since I knew you were still working and she knew I was new to town, she showed me around. She took me to a... place... run by a woman, it was really quite charming, actually! And I tried a sarsaparilla. Quite delicious."

Garrett placed his hands non-threateningly on his hips. "Was this place Angela's?"

Maura raised her eyebrows. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, relaxing her a bit. "It's the only place I know in town that's run by a woman, aside from the boarding house. From what I can tell, the location isn't ideal, but... I suppose as long as the Sheriff sent you there with a woman he trusts, it must be all right."

"Yes! Just what I thought," Maura said, relieved that Garrett wasn't upset. "Anyway, Jane had to leave, so I just thought I might come by and see where you work ...I know you're busy, dear, but I just couldn't wait any longer to see you!"

"I'm glad you came by," Garrett said honestly, kissing her hand again. "It does my heart so much good to see you, it's like a tonic! I should be working, but..."

"Oh, don't mind me," Maura said. "I'll find a way to keep myself entertained."

"Let me at least take you back to the Sheriff's office," Garrett said, picking up his hat. "And don't fight me on it- I need a break!" Turning to his short, male secretary, he said, "I'll be back in a jiff, old man. Hold down the fort!"

Pleased by Garrett's attitude, Maura happily took his arm and strode back outdoors with him. Getting back to the sheriff took quite a while longer than it should have, because Garrett was willing to take time out to answer Maura's many questions, as well as introduce her to many of the townspeople they met as they walked. It was clear that Garrett really had made a name for himself out here, because nearly everyone they met stopped to say hello to him and meet his bride-to-be. During the brief moments when they were alone, Maura joked that finance must have been much more popular out here than it had been in Boston.

Meanwhile, Jane had recently gotten back to Korsak's office, and as he fumbled about with the map they'd been studying earlier, Jane asked, "What do you know about this Fairfield fella?"

"Garrett Fairfield? Smart boy. Very charming. Why?" He sighed when Jane just shrugged, not sure herself why she had really cared enough to ask. So Korsak countered with his own question: "Why did you tell Maura you are Jake Wyatt?"

"Didn't mean to," Jane chuckled, though the more she thought about it, the more she acknowledged it wasn't really a laughing matter. "Frost and I just happened to come across her carriage, and we hitched a ride. We'd been goin' all night, so I was exhausted, y'know? And I kind of fell asleep. And my... my trusty mustache failed me. It sorta slipped off, and Maura couldn't help noticing."

Korsak sighed heavily again. "This ain't good, Janie."

"It's _Jane_. I've told you a hundred times, no one calls me that but Angela," Jane cut in seriously.

"Right. Jane," he said, feigning an apologetic look. "You are not supposed to let anyone in on this."

"I didn't _mean _to, Korsak. Besides, Maura won't say anything. And who would she say it _to_? Trust me, by tomorrow she'll have forgotten all about Jake Wyatt. She's much more invested in her darling fiancé."

"I wouldn't write her off too easily, Jane. If Fairfield was telling the truth, she's a mighty inquisitive girl."

"Speak English, Korsak," Jane said through her teeth.

"It means she'll ask questions."

Jane snorted. "Guess that's true. She already has. Oh, you know," she said, catching the alarmed expression on Korsak's face. "Wants to know why Angela and my brothers don't know, and where they think I am when I ain't in Hollow Creek."

"All valid questions, don't you think?" Korsak asked.

Jane just waved her hand, and leaned closer to the table. "Let's have a look at that map again, Korsak." Once he'd laid it out and pulled an illustrious pen out of his drawer, he looked back at her expectantly. "All of Bridgewater County, Wayne Ridge, Ford Valley, and I think we finally covered all of Colorado and the Utah territory." Korsak marked with the pen as Jane went, ticking the places off on her fingers. "We only happened to come by here because we've been starting to wonder if he might've headed South."

"To Mexico, you mean?"

"Yeah. Think it's possible?"

"Think anything's possible for that rogue." Korsak laid down his pen and lowered his glasses, surveying Jane carefully. She was twiddling her thumbs, staring at the table, and Korsak got the impression that she was purposefully avoiding looking at her gloved hands. "Jane," he said in a gentle tone.

She shook her head. "No. Don't tell me to give up, Korsak."

"I think it might be time."

"This was all your idea! Or I mean, at least you encouraged it!"

"For Chrissake, Jane, it's been fifteen years! You're pushing thirty!"

"So _what_, Korsak? So what? You want me to stop, to settle down? I like my freedom. And even if I ain't got that much closer to gettin' the man who destroyed my life, I've done plenty else! Will Hancock? Juan Delgado? Daniel Cole? All in prison or worse because of me. And that ain't to mention the dozens of other crooks I've caught—always makin' sure you get some kind of credit!"

"You didn't catch those men, Jane. Jake Wyatt did. And the less I hear from you and the more I hear _about _you, the more I worry you really are becoming him!"

Jane looked highly offended. "What, you think I'm crooked now?"

"No, I just think you're sacrificing your own life pretending to be Jake. You could be normal, Jane. You could lead a quiet life in this town. We love you here."

Ignoring that last sentiment, Jane huffingly folded her arms. "I couldn't ever lead a normal life, Korsak. You know that. You know _he _made certain of that." Her hand twitched.

"What're you gonna do if you catch him, Jane? Huh? What're you gonna do?"

"Kill 'im," she answered with a casual shrug.

"I mean after you've gotten rid of him. Then what? Does Jake retire? Do you get married, do you stop roaming from place to place? Or do you have this great vision of you and Frost continuing to comb the plains, consorting with ruffians and lowlifes?"

"If that's what it takes to get 'em all behind bars, then yeah."

"Never spending any time with decent society?"

"It's too late for me, Korsak."

"Don't give me that line. You could turn your life the hell around any time you wanted."

Jane let out a bark of a laugh, shooting Korsak an incredulous look. "You don't get it, old timer! Without Jake, I ain't got nothin'. I _am_ nothin'. What good am I as Calamity, rough-and-tumble Jane? A woman who scares the pants off every man I meet 'cause I can shoot straight, and usually better than him. I ain't worn a dress since I was twelve, and don't know or care to know a single thing about dressmaking or needlepoint or painting or any of that."

Korsak held up his hands in a sign of defeat. "I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to, Jane. I understand you're not, well, like other folks. And that's fine. I only want to help you; I've only ever wanted to help you. I just want to make sure you're taken care of." After a long pause, during which Jane seemed to soften up a bit, Korsak said, "Are you gonna spend your whole life going after him, Jane?"

She stared determinedly back into his sympathetic eyes. "If that's what it takes." She shrugged again. "Even if it means I won't ever be a lady, like Maura Isles…"

"From what I can tell, no woman out here will ever be a lady like Maura Isles," Korsak chuckled. Jane gave him a weak smile, absent-mindedly scratching behind the ears of the dog in her lap. Korsak finally decided to acknowledge the animal's presence, hoping a shift in topic might help lighten the atmosphere. "I see you picked a pup there. Don't let me down, Jane—you take care of that thing."

"I plan to," Jane said, lifting the dog up slightly to face Korsak. "Her name's Jo. Jo Friday. Maura helped me with the name."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd have got that on your own. If you ask me, your horse still resents you for calling him Stallion."

"Aw, he don't know the difference," Jane snorted, waving a hand dismissively. "I could call him Bucket Piano Whiskey Head and he'd still love me."

"That's the nice thing about animals, I guess," Korsak remarked. "So long as you treat 'em right, they don't give a hang what else you do."

Their tender bonding-over-fluffy-things moment was then interrupted by none other than Joe Grant, who came striding in looking for all the world as though he had just been named supreme ruler of the universe. He headed straight for Korsak, stopping only when he spared a glance for the other person in the room and recognized who it was: the dark flowing locks, the masculine energy bound in a gorgeously feminine body, the eyes that burned like embers.

"Jane?"

"Grant! How sweet of you to remember," Jane said, making no effort to get up or otherwise act as though his presence was relevant to her life.

Grant looked at Korsak, then back at Jane. "What—what, uh… what brings you back to the Creek?"

"Happenstance," she said, still paying more attention to her dog than to Grant. "Hear ya got made Deputy. Congratulations."

It was hard to say exactly what her tone was going for, but Grant got the hint that Jane was being a tad derisive. "What's with that attitude, Jane? I don't see you for years, and then you just act all …I don't know, like you're not happy to see me!"

For the first time, Jane looked over to catch his eye, raising her eyebrows in light surprise. "That's 'cause I'm not."

Before Grant could respond to this, Korsak quickly said, "Uh, deputy? Why don't you do a quick walk-around of the cells, huh?" After Grant left, still looking a bit affronted, Korsak sighed and turned back to Jane. "Do you gotta be rude to everyone, Jane?"

"Come on, Korsak, he ain't any good."

"He's a hard worker and he really wants to get somewhere."

"Then what's he doing around this place?" Jane muttered, too softly for Korsak to hear. When he asked her to speak up she said, "He just ruffles my feathers, Korsak, that's all. You know the last time I was here, Angela tried to get him to take me out."

"At her peril, I imagine," Korsak chuckled.

"At Grant's, more like. He got it into his head that I'm fond of him, and I can't shake that notion. I go _five years _without seeing him, and he still looks at me with those puppy dog eyes, and I just—argh!" Thinking about it upset her so much that she couldn't even sit still. She carefully placed Jo down on the floor and then stood up, starting to pace. "Angela likes Grant just as much as you do. Said I oughtta marry him, and that way I could stay here." Jane shot Korsak a challenging look, waiting for him to ask something, but he wisely remained silent as she resumed her pacing. "I don't think I'll ever be married, Korsak. You're right. I like what I do too much to stop for any man."

Korsak bit back the retort he was longing to say. If Jane would give half the men in Hollow Creek the time of day, many of them would probably be eager to marry her. She was a handful, yes, but there was nothing these frontier men liked more than a wild creature that needed to be tamed. Sometimes Korsak wondered if he had created a monster when he had conspired with Jane to track down the man who'd killed her father. Many of the stories he heard about Jake Wyatt were chilling, and he had only Jane's word in the scant letters she sent that most of the stories about Jake were just that, stories. It was odd; he was proud of her accomplishments, and sometimes thought she'd make a fine deputy. But other times, he worried about her mania. Riding across the plains searching for criminals with Frost was hardly what she ought to be doing, but Jane had never played by the rules. He'd just have to continue accepting that.

"It'd do you good to cool down a bit," Korsak said. "And if you're looking to avoid Grant, you'd best leave before he comes back. Why don't you head over to the ranch? See if there are any horses you like."

"Sure, Korsak. Thanks."

Strangely, going to the ranch turned out to be just what Jane needed. Situated on the far end of town, it wasn't so much a ranch as a corral, but nobody bothered getting technical about it. Jane had decided to walk, taking her time to get reacquainted with her little old hometown. There was nothing like the thrill of riding a horse in a rainstorm, or playing cards with crooks while praying they won't ever realize you're not on their side, or lying on your back at night next to a small fire, looking up at the stars that stretched on forever. Not another soul around except your partner and your horses. But part of her really missed the quietness, the peace of this town.

This last venture had been the longest Jane had ever been away from Hollow Creek. The decision to stay scarce for so long had mostly come because the last time Jane had been home, it had been incredibly difficult to leave again. If she was honest with herself, Jane hated leaving her brothers alone. Even if Angela was a little pushy now and then, Jane often found herself missing the woman's motherly compassion. She would get nostalgic for arguing and joking around with Korsak, the only pseudo-father figure in her life after her own had been killed. It was so nice to be able to just be _Jane_. No doubt about it, she loved the freedom and the respect that came with masquerading as Jake Wyatt, but it disturbed her that she spent most of her time pretending to be someone else. She and Jake were a lot a like; she didn't bend to anyone's will in Hollow Creek or let herself be stifled by societal expectations.

_Thank God I've got Frost_, she thought, kicking at some pebbles in the road. The corral was in sight now, but still a ways away. _Without him, I'd most likely lose whatever of my mind I've got left._

Korsak's words about settling down were starting to get to her. Considering how long she'd known Frost, walking down the street right now was the first time she wondered if she could ever pursue a romantic relationship with him. No… it would be too strange. Even if he were white—they were too much the same and too wildly different at the same time. _I don't need anyone. Not like that. Nobody will ever be close to me… nobody would ever want to be._

Jane had never had anybody to confide in. The last person she had told a secret to was her father, when she was thirteen. (_"Papa, will you promise not to tell?" She felt comforted by his warm smile, and he plopped his hat on her unruly head of hair. "Of course, my girl. What's going on in that big brain of yours?" "I done a bad thing." "What's that?" His voice was gentle. "I said the dog ate that fish Tommy caught. He didn't. I did."_) She remembered with perfect clarity his patience and understanding, but also the retribution she deserved for stealing from her younger brother and then lying about it: nothing but grits for three days. But at least her father had never broken his promise—he didn't explain to the boys why Jane was being punished and they both knew better than to ask.

These days, Frost was her only true companion, but he didn't know everything about her, just as she knew relatively little about him. All that mattered was their mutual respect and devotion to their goal. Another new thought struck her: why hadn't Frost given up, either? What was he running away from? Why hadn't he gone back north and found a nice girl to marry? Boy, were they a pair.

Jane had finally reached the corral, and stood for a few moments by the tall wooden fence, observing. Seven magnificent horses and two foals stood within the barriers, grazing and looking generally bored. A chestnut mare lazily lifted her head out of a bucket of oats and stared Jane in the face. Maintaining eye contact, Jane stepped through a hole in the fence and walked over to the horse, taking its face gently in her hands and stroking its neck. The mare was calm, looking back at her with huge, dark eyes as if waiting further instruction. A worn saddle lay nearby on the dirt; Jane picked it up and threw it on the horse, then mounted it. Here beneath her was a beast that more than easily outweighed her, could outrun her, and could kill her if it wanted to—but it never would. Jane loved the feeling of utter domination she got from controlling animals like horses. If she could exert power over such a potentially dangerous beast, she ought to have nothing to fear.

Her actions had stirred things up a bit in the corral, and the other horses started running around, trying to join the fun. Jane smoothly slid off the chestnut mare and tried deciding which horse she wanted to get on next. It was sort of like a game: she would half-chase one, then change her mind and go after another, waiting for one of them to ease up or turn back to her. They enjoyed the sport, almost teasing her, just out of reach.

She only stopped abruptly (nearly getting clocked by a stallion who veered out of the way just in time) when she noticed that Maura was standing on the other side of the corral, watching. Smiling. How long had she been there? She was a vision. Jane didn't know why or how that last thought had entered her head, and feeling rather embarrassed, walked slowly back to the fence.

When Jane got close enough for a dialogue, Maura asked, "So are you a ranch hand when you're not Mr. Wyatt?"

"Ha. No," Jane snorted, going under the fence to join Maura. "Korsak just sent me over here to…hold on." She noticed Maura had her parasol back, and her English saddle was lying on the ground behind her. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"Deputy Grant drove me over in the Sheriff's carriage," Maura answered, eliciting an eye roll from Jane. "Garrett walked me to the station and apparently had some business to discuss with the Sheriff, so he had his deputy escort me."

"He ain't still here, is he?" Jane groaned warily.

"No, he had to go back. Why?"

"No reason. So! You—"

"He seemed disappointed."

"What? Who?"

"Deputy Grant. He seemed disappointed to leave. He was singing your praises all the way down here, despite the fact that apparently you were quite rude to him earlier."

Jane merely grunted, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops and throwing herself against the fence. "Yeah, well, I'd quit it if he'd stop chasin' after me like a hawk goes for a sparrow. You know," she growled, noting Maura's look of confusion. "Thinks I'm easy pickin's 'cause no other man here's made a claim on me."

"He has wooed you?" Maura asked, impressed that any man could be so brave.

"He's tried," Jane responded dryly.

"Don't you find him attractive? In a male way?" Maura inquired.

Jane raised an eyebrow. "In a male way?"

The unspoken "what the hell's _that_ supposed to mean?" flew through Maura's mind as well. She averted her gaze and looked back to the horses. "He says he hopes you'll stay around longer this time." Now standing at the fence, leaning inwards, she turned to look at Jane. "Do you think you will?"

Jane continued to stare in the opposite direction. "Dunno."

"Where will you go if you don't?"

"Dunno."

Maura pursed her lips, slightly annoyed. She was not accustomed to carrying on conversations with such monosyllabic replies, but intuited that she shouldn't take it personally. There was an edge to Jane's tone, but not because she was upset with Maura. She sounded more upset with herself and her inability to decide. Maura decided to try and lighten things up a bit: "Where's Josephine?"

That worked. Jane laughed ruefully and finally turned herself around, returning Maura's gaze. "Are you really gonna call her that?"

"It's her proper name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but you tell anyone besides Angela and I'll flay you alive."

"Why Angela?"

"I get the feeling she'd be more willing to let my dog into her establishment if she knew it had such a refined name," she chuckled. She wasn't sure why, but talking to Maura suddenly made her nervous. Jane was on her own turf, Maura was the newcomer, but something about Maura's contemplating countenance made it seem as if she suddenly had some kind of advantage. This was a ridiculous notion, Jane knew, but she couldn't shake the anxiety that had unexpectedly taken a hold of her. Those gorgeous hazel eyes of Maura's, so wide, so happy, looked so innocent yet courageous. Jane shifted her gaze back to the ground, unconsciously pulling so hard at her belt loop that the frayed fabric pulled loose. "Ah, darn it," she muttered, fingering the ripped material.

She just about had a heart attack when Maura reached for the wrecked belt loop, her fingers grazing Jane's waist. The proximity was not something she was accustomed to, and sensing Jane's discomfort, Maura quickly pulled her hand away. "I can fix that if you like," she offered.

"Fix what?" Jane instinctively asked, immediately feeling stupid.

It was Maura's turn to raise an inquisitive eyebrow, wondering if Jane was flustered or was merely accustomed to clothing getting torn and not doing anything about it. "I'll sew the belt loop back on for you. Unless you'd like to do it yourself."

"Well I…" Jane scuffed the toe of her boot against the dirt. "I ain't so good with a needle and thread when you come right down to it. Although I guess that don't surprise you, huh?"

"Maybe not," Maura said with a gentle smile. "Would you like my help?"

The truth was that Jane could ask Angela to do it, and the woman would be glad to. But Maura looked so eager to help and so sincere, that Jane said, "Sure. I'd appreciate that." She hesitantly returned Maura's grin, then quickly turned her attention back to the horses. "But we can do that later. Let's get you saddled up!"

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><p><strong>AN**: Reviews are loved like children. Also, if you have any suggestions for little scenarios these two could get in, feel free to recommend some!


	5. She's a Lady

**A/N**: Wow, I have to say I am truly thrilled that y'all are taking this story/this idea! I was afraid it would be too weird, but I can't exaggerate how much I am _loving _writing this. Thank you so much for the support, and please keep those reviews coming! They are definitely the best kind of inspiration :)

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><p>After her first full day out West, all Maura could think about doing when she got back to the boarding house was taking a bath. Though the weather was ghastly hot, Maura was grateful for warm water: it soothed her excessively sore body and muscles, which had received a bit of rough treatment out on the range today. Jane had been right in guessing that Korsak's horses wouldn't be accustomed to an English saddle, and though everyone involved adjusted quickly enough, Maura had been surprised by how different these animals were from the ones in Boston. She had worn herself out quicker than she would've expected, and fortunately Korsak showed up with his coach just in time to offer her a ride back to the heart of town. Jane opted to stay behind, wanting to spend more time with the horses.<p>

"_So what do you make of our town so far, Dr. Isles?" Korsak asked amiably as they set back down the road at a comfortable trot._

"_It's lovely, it really is. Not entirely what I expected, but I suppose one can only glean so much of an accurate portrait from travel brochures and books. You've got quite a lot of… interesting characters out here, Sheriff."_

_Korsak chuckled, noting the involuntary nod Maura had directed back at the corral. "You mean Jane? Yeah, she's one of a kind, all right."_

"_I've never met a woman like her before," Maura said thoughtfully._

"_And I reckon you won't ever," Korsak said. "I gotta say, doc, I'm a little surprised. She doesn't usually take to other women the way she has to you. I've known Jane her whole life, and she didn't hardly ever care for company with other girls. She was always out wrestlin' with the boys, skipping out on school to go look at a toad her brother found, things like that. Once she grew up, I started thinking she maybe felt threatened by women like you. Ladies. They maybe make her feel …uncomfortable about herself, you know what I mean?"_

"_I suppose I do, yes_._"_

Disrobing to enter the luxurious tub Garrett had acquired for her, Maura found her thoughts reverting back to Jane. If what the Sheriff said was true, it _did _seem more than a little odd that Jane would be so nice to her. Maybe she felt guilty for having held up Maura's carriage? For making those jokes at her expense in the Sheriff's office? Furthermore, they had never settled the issue of Maura fixing that belt loop, and she was starting to wonder if it had been a rash and inappropriate offer to make. Jane hadn't seemed to mind, though…

But when Maura entered the water, her train of thought came to a grinding halt, and she just focused singularly on how good it felt to become clean.

Jane meanwhile had headed back to Angela's, her belt and holster slung a little lower than usual due to the ripped belt loop. She sidled casually up to the bar, sitting herself down next to Tommy. "Hey, where's Ma?"

Tommy's eyes looked a little unfocused as he turned to look at his sister. "Out. She'll be back soon—she's been looking for me. I mean, you." Before Jane had a chance to ask why, Tommy continued: "She's gorgeous, Jane."

"Uh…Angela?"

He made a face, shaking his head. "Your friend. Your new friend."

"Oh, you mean Maura."

"Maura," he sighed. "Beautiful name, too."

"I already told ya, Tommy, don't you go around gettin' any ideas," Jane said in a low warning voice. "She told ya herself she's out here to get married."

Frankie walked up just then, clapping a strong hand on Tommy's shoulder and pushing his face down to the bar. It wasn't a rough move; it was apparently one that the brothers had exercised quite often, because as soon as his cheek made contact with the dark wood, Tommy closed his eyes, appearing to fall asleep immediately. Jane was a tad startled, but Frankie acted as though this was business as usual as he sat himself down on Jane's other side.

"You wanna know something, Jane? I think that's what's changed most about Tommy since you been gone," Frankie said. "He spends half his time chasing girls. Ma's nearly at her rope's end trying to get him to think about anything else. If he don't watch out, he's gonna get some girl in trouble …if you know what I mean."

Frowning, Jane furrowed her brows and turned back to look at the snoozing Tommy. It disturbed her to think that Frankie believed he might get a girl in a family way without marrying her, even more than it disturbed her to think of her baby brother being old enough to charm women. Somewhere deep down, she'd always suspected he'd had it in him, though—that sweetly impish smile, the handsomely brooding eyes, and (now that he was grown) a fairly muscular build. As of this moment, he was wearing a pinkish coral shirt, and somehow he even managed to make _that _look manly!

"He's still a kid," Jane murmured.

"That's not all," Frankie said. "We caught this guy running out of town—his name's Crowe. He was all scared to pieces about something that happened on his last trip."

"What'd he say?" Jane asked quickly.

Frankie shrugged. "Wouldn't tell us. All's we know is somebody scared him off enough to leave town, and Tommy's got it in his head that it was some scalawag like Jake Wyatt or somebody. I tell ya, Jane, he worries me. I'm not saying he's headed down a criminal path, but I don't like the way he talks about fellas like that sometimes. Hero worship for criminals."

Again, Jane's opportunity to respond was interrupted, although this time from a much less welcome source. Dean walked over, resting his arm on Tommy's back. "He ask after your friend, Jane?"

"You still here, you bum?" Jane drawled.

Ignoring this response, Dean chuckled and headed for Frankie. "Whatsa matter with _you_, Frankie? Why ain't you asked about her? Everybody knows when you shook that lady's hand, it was the closest contact you ever had with a woman that didn't look like a squirrel been run over by a carriage."

This earned some laughter from a few other men in the saloon, and Frankie glaringly pushed Dean away when the man tried to genially put an arm around him. "Shaddup, Dean."

"Come on Frankie, be honest," Dean chuckled. "What'd you think of her?"

"Dean, shut it and go home," Jane said through her teeth.

But he wasn't done goading Frankie yet. "You need your sister to fight your battles for ya, Frankie? Have you got a man's bone in your body?"

Frankie's answer was to shove Dean back so hard that he crashed into the nearest table. Frankie leapt off his stool to do more damage, but Jane slid off to stand in front of him. She was sure the last thing Angela wanted was a fight in her place, especially one in which Frankie was involved. (He rarely fought, but a nip of alcohol earlier had put him a little on edge.) "Come on, little brother, don't let him get to you," Jane said softly, putting a hand calmingly to his chest. She turned to face Dean and cordially ask him to leave before somebody got hurt. But Dean had drunkenly swung back, not aware that Jane was standing between him and Frankie, and the side of his fist collided with Jane's nose.

Jane swore loudly, and Frankie swerved around her to grab Dean by the scruff of his coat. To scattered applause, he forcibly walked Dean towards the front double doors, tossing him onto the dirt ground outside. Jane looked up as he walked back in, and they both heard Angela's voice from the porch: "Thank you for coming by!"

"Quick, Frankie, get me a towel," Jane said, turning away from the door. "Ma's gonna go berserk if she sees this."

Leaping over the bar (and barely avoiding knocking into his sleeping brother), Frankie grabbed a dish towel and threw it to Jane. She deftly caught it with her free hand, using the other to hold her profusely bleeding nose. Just as Angela entered the saloon, Jane managed to duck into the stairwell by the bar, running up to Angela's private quarters. It was a small, humble living space, a quarter of which was taken up by the cot next to the window. With a few steps, Jane was on the other side of the room, standing in front of the mirror above Angela's desk. Warily pulling the towel away from her nose, Jane sighed—and the sigh hurt, going through her nasal passages. Inwardly she cursed at Dean, whose alcohol-fueled punch had packed much more power than she'd have expected. Half the towel was already soaked in blood, and Jane impatiently turned it over, holding the clean side up to her nose. Turning resignedly away from the mirror, she noticed a scandalously sleeveless, long blue dress lying across the cot. Curious, she got closer, careful not to bend over too far, lest she get dizzy. The dress certainly wouldn't fit Angela…

"Oh Jane, _there _you are!"

Jane sped around so fast, her head and nose throbbed. Angela had entered the room, but her smile slid off her face at the sight of the bloody towel being held up to Jane's nose. "Oh, Janie, how'd this happen?"

"Dean started a fight," Jane muttered.

"With you?"

"Frankie. Or he tried to, anyway. Hit me by accident." She grit her teeth and inhaled, finally pulling the blood-soaked towel away.

"_Don't _just drop that on the floor!" Angela cried when it looked as though that might be Jane's next move.

"What d'you suggest I do with it?" Jane asked with a final (painful) sniff.

"Throw it out the window. I'm certainly never using it again!"

Once this was accomplished, Jane shoved her hands in her pockets and asked, "Who's that dress for, Ma? I know it won't fit you. Have you replaced me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jane, it's for you!" Angela said brightly, picking up the dress and holding it up to Jane.

Jane took a huge step back, as if Angela had just tossed a live rattlesnake in her face. "What? Ma, have you been drinkin' too much out of the tap again?"

"How dare you suggest something like that to the woman who raised you!" Angela said, giving Jane's incredulous face a light (but loving) slap. "I picked this out for you two years ago on your birthday. I didn't have an _address _to send it to, of course, but I hoped if you ever came back, you'd put it on. Just once."

"_Why_?" Jane groaned—no, whined. "Ma, what made ya think I'd wear this?"

"Jane, I know you fancy yourself this high-and-mighty, tough woman on the range, and I respect that. I know you like doing what you want and not giving a rat's ass about what anyone else has to say, even your family—and I _know _I'm not real family, Jane, but ever since your poor father died and you kids had no one to take care of ya, I've loved you like you were my own daughter. I loved you like the daughter I lost." A dry sob halted further speech, and Angela sat herself down on the dingy cot, pulling the dress onto her lap. Jane instantly went to her side, grasping Angela's hand as the woman went on, her words punctuated occasionally with tears. "Janie, I know I ain't perfect, and God rest your mother, I know I ain't her. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for your brothers helpin' me out all the time, but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't go to sleep every night worrying that one or both of 'em will be gone when I wake up. I don't wanna lose those boys like I lost you!"

"Ma, you didn't lose me," Jane said softly, using her other hand to rub Angela's back. "You won't ever lose me."

"But I did," Angela sighed, turning teary eyes towards Jane. "You say this town's too small for ya, and you've gotta leave. So you go, and you send letters now and then, but you don't ever give us an address to write back to ya. And I know," she said wearily when it looked like Jane was about to interrupt. "You say it's because you're never in one place too long, and mail carriers are too slow to reach you. One month you're in Wayne Ridge, taming wild horses. One month you're in Salt Lake, just to see what it's like to vote. One month you're shepherding goats over a mountain—but you don't ever talk to us about nobody! No friends, no… no men… Janie, I know you don't mean to hurt me, but when you only tell us so much about your life and don't give us a chance to talk back, it—it hurts!"

"Oh, ma…" Jane shifted to pull Angela into a tight hug. Tears stung her eyes as Angela shuddered against her, and Jane was briefly transported to the very few but very poignant memories she had of this situation in reverse: she had always been a proud girl, and resented the feminine urge to shed tears. But whenever she felt it was impossible to avoid crying, she would run as fast as she could to Angela's, where she felt inexplicably safe, biting back her tears until she got there. Even before her father was killed, Jane would only allow herself to cry in Angela's mothering arms. "Ma," she croaked out, still hugging her and clumsily patting her hair. "Ma, don't ever think I don't love you. I didn't hardly know my own mother—you're all I've got. You're all I've ever really known. I'm sorry I don't write too much and I'm sorry I don't tell ya how to write back—I can't be around here all the time is all…"

Angela pulled back, sniffing loudly. "But _why _can't you? _Why _do you gotta leave and be gone all the time, Janie?"

Jane pursed her lips, washed over with guilt at the sight of Angela's watery eyes and quivering mouth. Suddenly she was overcome with the desire to tell Angela everything, about Jake Wyatt, about why she was _really_ always gone …but the urge left her almost as soon as it had come. She could hear the responses already, and in Angela's case, they were entirely justifiable: _"You'll get yourself killed!" "You're wasting your life, you gotta move on!" "Somebody will catch on and assault you!" "How will you ever meet a man?" _Jane could brush off those ideas, but the one she knew would be Angela's best point was the one truth that infuriated Jane to no end: _"You don't even know the name of the man that killed your father—it's been fifteen years now; how could you even hope to just recognize him?"_

After a long pause, Jane said as gently as she could, "You gotta take my word for it, Ma. It's got nothin' to do with you or Frankie or Tommy. But you gotta trust me."

An even longer silence followed this proclamation, as if Angela was hoping Jane would say more. But Jane remained silent, communicating now with only her patient, loving eyes, hoping Angela would understand. With a great sigh, Angela wiped away at the last of her tears and straightened up. That was as good an answer as she'd ever get out of her typically taciturn Jane. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know what got into me just then. It's just… you're hardly ever home, and I just wanted to do something nice for ya. And I hoped maybe you'd return the favor." She hopefully held the dress up, and Jane eyed it like she would a lethal weapon. "Come on, Jane! It can make up for when you missed my birthday last year."

"You said not to send anything!"

"I changed my mind!"

"_Ma_…" Inhaling sharply, Jane got to her feet, dragging the dress out of Angela's hands. "Where do ya even want me to wear it? I ain't goin' down there and lettin' all the fellas in the bar holler at me."

"Of course not," Angela said, getting up as well and looking thrilled. "You're going to have dinner in that private room I had built for the General the last time he was here!"

"Dinner? Dinner with who?"

"Does that matter? It's a surprise."

"Ma, you know I hate surprises. I've always hated surprises. The only difference is now I come at 'em with bullets," Jane said darkly, pulling her gun out of its holster.

Not looking the least bit amused, Angela delicately took the gun out of Jane's hands and placed it on the bed. "Do it for me, Jane. You owe me that much."

Jane's expression was tantamount to one that would've indicated she'd just been force-fed a bowl of hog manure. "Fine," she said through her teeth, arms folded so tightly it looked as though she'd never uncross them again. Angela squealed with delight, causing Jane to quickly add, "I ain't makin' any promises here, ma! But I will put on that dress _just for tonight_, and give whoever it is a chance. Guess I couldn't call myself brave if I couldn't do that," she sighed, undoing her belt and taking her worn chaps off as well.

"Oh Janie, you've made me so happy!" Angela cried. "Now go outside to the spigot and wash off—you've got dirt and dried blood and God knows what else all over you!"

Grumbling all the way, Jane walked out the room's other door and down the outside stairs. She tromped past the chicken pen towards a secluded, almost woodsy area which housed the well and spigot Angela had been referring to, taking off her deerskin gloves as she walked. There was nobody around, so Jane didn't think twice about quickly unbuttoning her sweaty wool top (covered in dried blood), throwing it carelessly on the ground where it was soon joined by her white undershirt. She then impatiently piled her hair on top of her head and jammed her hat on top of it to keep it in place, twisting the spigot and ducking under the meager trickle that came out. It never failed to amaze her how much grime and dust was able to seep through her sleeves and under her collar, slowly washing away with the cold water. Her jeans were getting wet, but she didn't care; she didn't want to take the time to wash her entire body. Just enough to get rid of the smell of sweat and dirt, and besides, the dress would cover most of her legs. In case someone walked out of the saloon, she quickly tossed the undershirt back on before hurrying back up the steps to Angela's room.

Angela greeted her with a pair of heeled black boots. "I picked up these for you, also! Look, there's lace on it to match the trim of your dress!"

With great difficulty, Jane refrained from rolling her eyes as she grabbed the boots from Angela. She could not, however, keep from wrinkling her nose as she inspected them closer. Indeed lacy and leathery (and with many complicated-looking laces), they were a far cry from the mud-covered snakeskin boots Jane practically slept in. Little as she knew about fashion, she _did _know it would be wildly improper to wear such a nice dress with her own raggedy shoes. So with yet another resigned sigh, Jane sat herself down on the edge of the cot and proceeded to yank off her boots in a very unladylike manner. Before going any further, Jane raised her eyebrows at Angela. "A little privacy, ma?"

"Oh, as if it's anything I haven't seen before," Angela scoffed. "Give me those pants of yours—I noticed you got 'em all wet under that spigot. I'll put them on the porch rail to dry."

"Thanks," Jane muttered, handing the jeans over.

"Perfect! Just go on down to the private room when you're finished. There's matches and nice gloves on the desk, and take the flowers there with you!"

Jane had noticed the bouquet of purple wildflowers earlier, but had assumed they were from a secret admirer of Angela's (and had fully intended to tease her about it). As soon as Angela was out of the room, Jane peeled off her undershirt and struggled into the blue dress. She did have to admit that the material was exceedingly comfortable, and when she took a few steps, it was funny but pleasing to feel a breeze between her legs. Still, it didn't feel natural. Jane felt weak and exposed, and she didn't like it. But Angela had put up with so much and she asked for so little…

She walked over to the desk, picking up the matchbox Angela had indicated. Jane had been seven or eight the first time she was invited up to Angela's room and saw her get ready for the day. She had looked on in anxiety and then awe as Angela struck a match, let it burn, then shook the tiny flame out. Explaining that she couldn't afford proper makeup, she leaned in close to the mirror and brushed the sooty end of the match just above her eye. Jane's mouth had been open in awe the whole time: it had never occurred to her that something as dangerous as a match could aid a woman in looking beautiful. Growing up, it was the only kind of makeup she ever cared to attempt using, simply because she thought the way Angela applied it was so hazardous, and that excited her. Standing now in this dress and at Angela's bureau, Jane put on the fancy white gloves and did the trick for the first time in years.

Her next mission was the pair of formal black evening boots, which she struggled to pull on, refusing to undo the knot of laces. It took a while and quite a bit of pain, but she eventually managed to do it. Then she grabbed the flowers and headed back down the outside staircase, walking around back to the private room Angela had referred to.

No sooner had she walked inside than she realized there were candles and a bottle of burgundy on the table, and the only other person in there was Joseph Grant. He turned when she came in, hands resting on his hips, eyebrows raised. "Jane. You look incredible."

Jane's eyes scanned the room again, as if hoping somebody else might pop out of nowhere to join them in their solitude. When this didn't happen, she merely thanked Joe and turned on her heel to exit the room, flowers still in hand. But at as soon as she'd done this, Angela appeared, blocking her way back to the stairs.

"_Really_, Ma?" Jane whispered. "Joseph Grant? You know I can't stand him! Why'd it have to be him?"

"Janie, he's a good man!" Angela insisted. "He's changed a lot in the last five years, and I think you'd like him if you gave him half a chance!"

"He's a brass kisser," Jane said, speaking through her teeth again.

Angela didn't know what that meant, but it was clear by Jane's tone that it wasn't a good thing. "Janie, I just want you to be taken care of!"

"I can take care of myself! Stay outta this!"

"Be a girl!" Angela hissed, compassion gone.

Exhaling some odd sort of sound of annoyance, Jane stalked back into the private room where Grant was looking as uncomfortable as Jane felt. "Look, Grant," she sighed. "I didn't know Angela had…"

"She just cares about you, that's all," Grant said, walking to the other side of the table to join Jane. "She wants to see you happy. And I think I could make you happy, Jane. I really do."

Jane surveyed him with skeptical eyes. This man had known her since she was a teenager, but he didn't know a single thing about her. Not a thing. Squinting and cocking her head slightly to the side, she tried to see what Maura had seen when asking if Jane thought he was good-looking. Not… really. "Grant, it ain't nothing personal," she said. "But I don't need a man to make me happy."

He took another step towards her, now offensively close. "Are you sure about that?" he asked in a low voice.

"Sure's I am about anything," Jane snorted. She reached around him and grabbed the burgundy bottle by its neck, kicking the door open with her fancy boots and letting it swing shut behind her. She was only grateful to see that Angela had apparently trusted her enough to assume she'd stay, because she was nowhere in sight, and Jane didn't fancy walking back through the bar or back to Angela's room. She was seething at Grant—pompous, gross Grant—and still upset that Angela had tried yet again to set her up with him. Passing by the front porch of the saloon, Jane saw her jeans hanging over the railing and reached for them, slinging them over her arm. She didn't even really register where she was going now; her feet were moving of their own accord, taking her to Miss Melody's boarding house, where Maura had mentioned she was staying…

As it was past 9:00, Melody had just been about to lock her doors when she noticed a lone figure walking towards her establishment. If she was shocked to realize that it was Jane (in a dress, of all things), she covered it well. "Why, if it isn't Calamity Jane! What brings you here?"

For some reason, it was only just dawning on Jane that she had arrived at a women's boarding house wearing a blue dress, carrying flowers and a bottle of burgundy. "Uh… Sheriff Korsak wanted me to bring these by for Maura Isles. You know, as a welcome-to-town sorta thing. He'd have done it himself, but, well, it's after dark." She noticed Melody was raising an eyebrow at the bottle in Jane's hand, so Jane just chuckled and said, "The flowers, anyway. The burgundy's for me. Can I go up?"

"I know Miss Isles was taking a bath a short while ago. I'll see if she's finished, and whether she's interested in receiving company at the moment, if you'll be good enough to wait here." And she bustled up the steps.

Jane leaned against the front desk as she waited, idly playing with the leaves of one of the flowers. Maura had been bathing. She had been nude. In water. _Ah! Why are you thinking about that, Rizzoli? _Her heart was racing mildly, not enough for her to really notice, but definitely faster than a normal rate. She really wanted Maura to want to see her, and for some reason felt extremely insecure. At the thought of Melody coming back and saying Maura had requested Jane to leave, Jane felt an inexplicable weight descend to the pit of her stomach.

But she needn't have worried—Melody was back soon, saying that Maura had asked Jane to come up right away. "Third door on the left," she told Jane. "And don't stomp, please!" she hastened to add, when Jane thoughtlessly started clomping up the stairs. Jane hastened to apologize and quiet the rest of her steps. When she reached the second floor, it was to see that Maura was already waiting in the doorframe for her, a wide grin spread across her lovely face.

"Jane!" she said, looking and sounding genuinely pleased as Jane walked down the hall towards her. "I hardly would've recognized you!"

It was truly stunning that Maura could look so beautiful at this time of night, wearing one of the least revealing garments Jane had ever seen: a plain white nightgown that nearly reached her ankles, with a buttoned collar and caps on the wrists of the sleeves. Her impossibly shiny, golden hair was slightly damp and pulled up, leaving her neck bare. Some sort of gorgeous fragrance was emanating from her, and mixed with the wildflowers in Jane's hands, the scent was almost overwhelming.

How was she so lovely?

"Uh—these're for you," Jane stammered, thrusting the flowers at Maura.

Maura's smile widened, revealing deep dimples in her cheeks, and she stepped back, waving Jane inside. "Oh, these are beautiful," she enthused, shutting the door behind Jane and smelling the flowers. "Thank you." There was so much heartfelt emotion infused in those two words that Jane couldn't bring herself to repeat the lie that the flowers were from Korsak. Let Maura think Jane had thought of it herself. "You didn't dress up for _me_, did you?"

"No," Jane said quickly. "Angela thought it'd suit me to try dinner with Grant again." She narrowed her eyes as Maura chuckled, walking to her small bathroom to fill an empty vase with water. "What?" she groaned, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Maura's laughter wasn't mean or particularly jesting, and it bothered Jane that she couldn't read it. "Come on, what—do I look stupid?"

Maura returned with the vase, putting the wildflowers delicately inside it. "What? Are you kidding?" she laughingly asked, setting the vase on her desk. She turned to see that Jane still looked unsure. "You're _gorgeous_, my friend."

The unexpected compliment and added term of endearment made Jane blush. Though Maura didn't seem to have found the remark awkward, Jane felt obligated to deflect with cynicism, as she usually did when confronted with discomfort: "Really? Well, tell that to Angela. She thinks I'm some… pity project."

"She just loves you, that's all," Maura said, grinning at Jane's bashful attitude. She squinted and stepped closer. "Although maybe she's also concerned…"

"About what?" Jane asked.

It became evident that Maura was staring at Jane's nose, which, now that she thought about it, was still stinging a bit. "Hairline fracture," the doctor murmured. "The nasal bone above the nasal lateral cartilage."

"The…"

"Don't worry, it's not disfiguring. What happened?"

"Oh," Jane muttered, touching her nose. "It ain't a problem."

"I could fix it for you," Maura offered.

"Uh…well, if ya…if ya think…"

"I've gone days without practicing even the slightest medical procedure," Maura said. "You would be doing _me_ a favor."

"Well then," Jane said, setting the burgundy and her jeans down on the floor. "By all means, doctor, go on ahead."

With a small smile, Maura stepped even closer and advised, "This might hurt a little."

No stranger to pain, Jane just said "okay," and waited patiently. Her heart jumped a bit when Maura gently took her chin between delicate fingers, presumably surveying Jane for the best way to go about this. She traced her fingers to the left side of Jane's jaw, letting them rest there as she raised the index finger of her other hand to the bridge of Jane's nose. She was too focused on this task to notice that Jane's eyes were staring directly at her concentrated hazel ones, but then they were both distracted by the loud cracking noise that was Jane's bone being shoved back into place.

"_Ow!_" Jane cried, taking a step back. It was the sound that had startled her more than anything else, but it still hurt. "A little?"

"You'll want to put some ice on that for the next twenty-four hours," Maura said, unfazed by Jane's reaction. "Or you'll look like a boxer who's just come out of a ring."

Despite the pain, Jane's curiosity was roused. "You know a lot about boxing, Dr. Isles?"

"Not much, but I do know my father was called on to help a number of boxers before the sport was outlawed in Boston," Maura answered. "And some afterwards, too. Melody said they serve food here, so I'm sure there's an ice house somewhere—would you like me to go ask someone on the evening staff if they might bring some up?" She was already heading towards the door, as if the question was merely being asked out of politeness and she would be getting the ice whether Jane agreed to it or not. Indeed, all she got in response was yet another "Uh…" before she smiled and left the room with a "be right back" on her lips.

Slightly dumbfounded, Jane sat down on the edge of Maura's bed, dozens of questions flying through her mind. Normally she wasn't drawn to classy women like Maura—why had that changed? What had possessed Jane to come here so late at night? The whites of Maura's eyes had been tinged slightly red; had she been crying? And if so, what for? Was it tactless for Jane to be here, on Maura's first night in town? She was probably exhausted and in much of need of sleep, and was probably only being polite when she had allowed Jane up. Women like Maura were polite. Jane resolved to leave as soon as Maura got back with the ice (knowing it would be rude to go beforehand), not aware of Maura's determination to keep her there.

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><p><strong>AN**: First of all, no, the next chapter won't skip to the next day. I definitely have a lot planned out (sorry for the lack of Jane/Maura in these last two), and it will hopefully answer some questions. It should be up in a day or two, because I have a very clear idea of what I want it to be.

Based on my poll, I'm noticing that a lot of you want Bass to be in this story. I know that's wildly implausible, but it would be fun to include him, so I guess I should find a way. Speaking of implausibility, I actually found myself imagining Giovanni playing a (very) supporting role as like a blacksmith or something. Like, instead of working on cars, he would make horse shoes (GET IT? Haha, I crack myself up...). But I do think that'd be stretching it a bit- were there many Italians in the old west? I don't think so, although there's not exactly a ton of authenticity in this story, lol. Rest assured I have been doing some research, though. I think it's really interesting, it's just sometimes hard to separate the true story of the old American west and our romanticizations of it.

Anyway, feel free to leave more suggestions for scenarios in your reviews (I've gotten some great ones so far!), and I added a few more options to the poll at the top of my profile, so check it out! (I will probably end up incorporating most of those options anyway, but the votes may determine how quickly those scenarios come/how much of a bearing they have on the plot.)


	6. Ghost Stories

**A/N**: Wow. Thanks again for the support, guys! I am so glad I decided to write this- it's been so much fun so far. Also it's one of the first times I've started writing a story with a clear ending and most of the middle in mind (not that I've been writing scenarios in class when I should have been taking notes...). Hope this chapter satisfies!

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><p>After five minutes or so, Maura returned with a small block of ice wrapped in ragged towel, treading carefully and closing her door quietly so as not to disturb any of the other women on the floor. It was still strange to see Jane dressed in such a female fashion, wearing eyeliner and satin and lace. She looked clean, too, and fresh. <em>This beautiful woman is sitting on my bed. <em>The thought passed through Maura's mind as Jane's lips curved up into a nervous smile. Maura smiled encouragingly back, pressing the towel against Jane's nose. Jane winced, but moved her hand to take the pack, her thinly gloved fingers brushing against Maura's smooth ones before the doctor pulled back.

"The night guard said to take as much of that as you need," Maura said. "And I imagine you'll be needing more by the time you leave. I'm not sure he would've been so willing, but I told him who you are." She chuckled dryly. "You have quite a reputation around here, Calamity Jane."

Jane laughed sourly. "Guess so. You gotta have a reputation if you wanna get anywhere in life, don'tcha?"

"Well, I suppose one could look at it that way," Maura conceded. She was sitting on the bed next to Jane, her feet barely touching the floor. "Those are beautiful boots, by the way."

"Ah, Angela picked 'em out for me," Jane grunted, giving one foot a swing for emphasis. "They hurt like hell."

"Maybe you should take them off, then," Maura said, leaning down slightly. "It looks as though they're laced very tightly."

"I didn't wanna bother undoing 'em," Jane said, instantly regretting it. Admitting that probably made her sound lazy, or worse, incompetent. But before Jane could inwardly curse herself for sounding like a lethargic idiot in front of this intelligent woman, Maura was getting down on her knees on the floor. "W-what're you doing?" Jane asked so quickly her words slurred together, as she tensely straightened up.

Maura raised her eyebrows. "Taking these boots off for you."

"I can—I can do th—you don't have to do that."

"You're clearly in pain. I noticed you were limping earlier, and it would behoove you to take them off as soon as possible. But you shouldn't remove that ice from your nose, at least not yet—so unless you'd rather I hold that there while _you_ untie these…"

Jane was still stuck on the word "behoove," and didn't notice right away that Maura had finished talking, and was looking up at her expectantly. "Er… all right, then."

As she nimbly began untying the knot the left boot, Maura conversationally asked, "Do you know where Angela purchased these?"

"No."

"Because I visited the general store next door, and I noticed their shoes run a bit small. It's possible Angela didn't know this or failed to take it into consideration. Given your age, it's unlikely that your feet would have grown since you've been gone."

"How old do you think I am?" Jane asked with a hint of a smile.

Maura paused and looked up, surveying Jane before refocusing her attention on the crisscrossed laces. "Thirty?"

"Close enough, I guess," Jane said with a shrug. "I can't say for sure, but I think I'm thirty. Twenty-nine, maybe. Korsak says… Korsak says it's been fifteen years since my pop was killed, and I was fourteen then, so… so does that make thirty?"

"It makes twenty-nine," Maura said, loosening each of the knots. She moved to the other boot without removing the first one.

"Right." _Never try and talk about numbers or words or anything smart with this woman again!_ "How about you, Dr. Isles? How old are ya?"

"Please, don't be so formal," Maura laughed, shooting a glance up at Jane. "You can just call me Maura."

"Right," Jane said again. "Maura." Jane had been interchanging what she called her, Dr. Isles or Maura, but for some reason it made her nervous to use the woman's real name. A lady so refined and so intelligent deserved to be addressed properly, in Jane's opinion. But if Maura preferred to go by Maura, then so be it. "So? Maura, how old are ya?"

"Twenty-five, my last birthday," Maura answered. "Twenty-six in three months and four days."

"Oh. Well." For whatever reason, Jane had been expecting something older than that, but didn't let on. She wondered if Maura got that a lot.

"There we are," Maura muttered, having uncoiled the last lace of Jane's other boot. "Hold still a second." She tugged gently at the two-inch heel and the toe, and the boot slid off with relative ease. A small gasp escaped her at the sight of Jane's foot, which was extremely red, especially around the toes. She looked up at Jane in mild surprise, and Jane fought a blush, thinking Maura was aghast at the uncleanliness and unfeminine scrapes she had permitted to remain there. She wished she had washed them. As if realizing this misapprehension, Maura quickly said, "Oh! Jane, you…" She moved to the other boot, pulling it off as well to reveal an even more abused foot. "Oh!" she gasped again, for lack of a better exclamation. "How on earth did you manage to walk in these?"

Manfully gritting her teeth, Jane said, "Just used to it, I guess."

"You really ought to wear some kind of sock or stocking," Maura said. "That would certainly help keep these callouses at bay."

"It's nothin'," Jane insisted.

"Would you like me to massage them for you?"

"What's a massage? No."

"It'll help with the pain," Maura said.

"I don't know what that is," Jane said bluntly.

"Pain?"

"A massage, or whatever it is you said. But it ain't what I came over here for."

"Then what did you…oh," Maura said, glancing the jeans that lay on the floor by the foot of the bed. "I'll only fix those if you let me help you with your feet."

Thoroughly confused, Jane contracted her brow and stared Maura down. Determined not to lose her sudden nerve, Maura stared resolutely back from her position on the floor. "What's in it for you?" Jane asked softly.

"Does something have to be _in _it for me? Can't it just be an act of service?"

"Service, bah," Jane snorted. "Don't nobody do nothin' for anyone else unless he can get somethin' out of it, too. I learned that right quick when I was young: do it to him before he does it to you."

"And if you don't?"

Jane shrugged. "If ya don't? Your goose is cooked."

"That's living like an animal," Maura said scornfully.

"Then my comparison was a good one."

Maura got to her feet. "All right then, what I get out of it is a feeling of accomplishment. A sense of goodwill. That may not be your top priority, Calamity Jane or Jake Wyatt or whoever you are, but it's pretty high on my list." As she talked, she moved towards one of her dresser drawers, pulling out a small sewing kit. She stooped to pick up Jane's pants, then sat down at her desk, close to the light. "I'll fix these, then we'll see how your feet feel." After a short pause, Maura said, "Would you explain it to me?"

"Explain what?"

"This whole Jake Wyatt business."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You ask too many questions."

"Questions are the only way to learn, and I like learning things," Maura replied, searching for a thread that was at least remotely similar in shade to light denim. "You can go ahead and ask _me_ anything you like; I won't mind."

_You don't have secrets. You don't have a history_. "What color are your eyes?" Jane finally asked. This got Maura to look up, a little confused. She held eye contact with Jane for several long moments, and a crooked smile showed up on Jane's face. "I been tryin' to figure it out all day." _All day. We've only known each other for a day. Why does it feel longer than that? _"Sometimes they look brown, sometimes they look green."

"They're hazel," Maura said, returning to her thread search and not knowing why this was a relevant question. "That's what you call that in-between sort of color."

"For any in-between color?"

"No, just brown and green. Ah, here we go," she said, finally selecting a light blue thread. She unspooled it carefully, then spent the next several moments in quiet frustration, trying to thread the needle. "Why do they make the eye of the needle so darn small?" she asked rhetorically.

Jane quipped a response: "Probably to annoy the camel."

Maura looked up again, pleasantly surprised. "Jake Wyatt has read the Bible."

"Not quite," Jane chuckled, crossing her feet. "My pop and then Angela made sure me and Frankie and Tommy heard at least one story from that book a night. Angela's the one who really made sure we understood that it's easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven—she hoped we'd understand then that it weren't important for us to ever worry about money. Of course, we didn't know what a camel looked like, but by Angela's description, we just guessed they were pretty big."

"A sight bigger than the eye of a needle, yes," Maura laughed, finally threading it successfully. As she started sewing, she said, "Do you have a favorite?"

"Favorite what?"

"Story from the Bible."

"I dunno…do you?"

"Oh, yes," Maura said, bringing the jeans off her lap and onto the desk, closer to the lamp. "I always admired Ruth."

"Ruth? I don't think I know that one."

"It's a small story. But she was a very loyal, dedicated woman, and I admired that."

"Oh, is she the one that saved the kingdom?" Jane asked excitedly. "There was a crook who wanted to kill all her people, and he got the king to agree, but then she—the Queen—stopped it all?"

"No, that's Esther," Maura said with a grin. "Ruth worked on a much smaller scale. I liked that message: she didn't save an entire race of people, but she had a sweet spirit all the same."

"Well…what'd she _do_?" Jane asked, confused. The way her father and Angela had told them, Bible stories were always big and exciting and heroic.

"She…well, she was a widow who stayed with her mother-in-law," Maura offered, realizing as she said it how anticlimactic it would sound to someone like Jane. "As opposed to abandoning her, like her other daughters-in-law did."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Uh-_huh_…sounds pretty brave."

Maura glanced up, noting Jane's sarcasm. "Sometimes, Jane, it's the smaller, simpler things that take bravery. Things like love, things like letting yourself get close to someone. In some cases, that can take more courage than pulling a trigger at a bandit."

Jane couldn't fathom how that could possibly be, but decided not to press it. Maura seemed pretty set in her ideas. "Hmm…well, I guess my favorite story was probably the one about Noah and his ark. I used to ask pop to tell that one all the time." With a reminiscent laugh, she said, "At night, he'd put up a candle and use his hands to make sort of… shadows on the wall, and he'd make 'em look like animals. Then he'd do animal sounds, and that'd help us guess which one he was trying to do—a chicken, or a cow, or a pig."

"You certainly love animals, don't you?" Maura asked, sparing another glance and grin for Jane before returning her scrutinizing eyes to her work.

"Suppose I do," Jane said. "Suppose I have my whole life. It's just that sometimes, I feel more comfortable around animals than I do around people. They're less… complicated. Sometimes they make more sense to me than people do… you know what I mean?"

Maura's hand stilled, and her features darkened slightly. "Yes," she said seriously. "I do. That's why…" She sighed and looked up, finding all the reassurance she needed to continue in Jane's understanding eyes before demurely setting her gaze to the floor. "That's why I often volunteered to diagnose and log patients who were dead on arrival when they came to my father. I felt less—or, I mean, I felt more at ease when it wasn't my job to comfort live patients, or look at their eyes when I approached them with a scalpel. Death doesn't try to lie to you, or dissuade you, or cheat you. It doesn't hide the truth. It's just… there." She inhaled sharply, looking back up at Jane. "That must make me sound rather odd, doesn't it?"

"Not at all," Jane said in a quiet voice. "I'd still suggest animals, though. At least those'll interact with ya!"

Maura smiled faintly, finishing the last of her sewing. "I did have a pet once, when I was a girl. An orange cat named Tabitha. She died when I was eight, and it was… the worst feeling I had ever known. The worst feeling I knew until my father passed away, if you can believe that. Ever since then, I never wanted to own an animal again. It was just too saddening to think of it dying before me. You give it all this care and this love, and it can only be with you for so long. At least if _you _died before _it_—well, I don't think animals are capable of despair the same way that humans are. They would find a way to survive." She grabbed her tiny pair of sewing scissors and snipped the thread, then gave the belt loop a tug. Looking over at Jane and smiling, she said, "There! Good as new."

Jane made to stand up, but as soon as she rested her weight on her feet, she cringed and sat instantly back down on the bed, screwing her eyes shut against the unexpected pain. But pain was nothing next to further embarrassment, and so she fully planned to get up again and just act as though she wasn't hurt (which she'd done plenty of times), but she felt a hand firmly press down on her shoulder, keeping her seated on the bed. Jane opened her eyes to see Maura standing determinedly in front of her, making sure she didn't get up again.

"Are you going to let me help you with your feet?" she asked, Jane's jeans slung over her arm as if she were ready to hold them hostage.

Considering that Maura had clearly already witnessed how much her feet hurt, Jane could hardly brush away the offer without a fight. Not fully interested in just giving up, though, Jane shrewdly surveyed Maura and said, "Only if you'll tell me one more thing."

Surprised that Jane had rolled over so quickly, Maura said, "Certainly."

"Why were you crying?"

"When?"

"Before I got here. Your eyes ain't so bad anymore, but when I showed up, they looked red, like you'd been crying. Were ya?"

Maura's mouth was open slightly, as she was admittedly taken aback that Jane had noticed—she thought she'd been doing a good job of acting pleasant. And it hadn't been too difficult, really, because she had been happy to see Jane. It was strange; she had never been self-conscious about crying before (it was such a demure, feminine thing to do), but suddenly she felt awkward admitting it to someone as tough as Jane. There could be no getting around it, however: Jane had asked a direct question, and Maura could not lie.

"Yes," she said slowly, sinking off the bed and back onto the floor. She gently took one of Jane's feet in her hands, only to have the woman jerk back so quickly she nearly kicked Maura in the shin.

"What're you doin'?"

"Giving your feet a massage," Maura said. "You told me I could if I'd tell you why I had been crying!"

"Oh, right," Jane mumbled. Her feet were very sensitive, especially on the bottom, but she _had _given Maura the go-ahead.

Furrowing her brows slightly, Maura returned her attention back to Jane's calloused foot. With one hand she cupped the area just above the heel, her fingers brushing against Jane's ankle. Her other hand grasped further down, rolling Jane's foot around, her thumb pressing into the ball of the foot. "There's a lot of little bones in the foot you know," she said, her hand now lying flat against the bottom of Jane's foot, lightly exerting pressure. "Especially connected to the ankle." She rolled it again. "But anyway, yes, I _was _crying." Her fingers moved up to Jane's toes, kneading the biggest one and then in-between the rest, occasionally going back down to the very tense ball. A small, stifled gasp escaped Jane, and Maura ignored it, not wanting to make Jane feel more uncomfortable than she probably already was. So she missed the sight of Jane biting her lip, hands curling into fists to keep herself from making any more noise as Maura's hand moved to the arch of her foot, spreading the skin to feel for the bones beneath. When she moved her attention to the heel and tendon, she finally looked up because Jane had let a hiss escape. "Jane? Are you all right, am I hurting you?"

"Damn—I mean, sorry—gosh, Maura, that feels _really _good," Jane said through her teeth, sounding as if she hated admitting it. She wished she could lie down and get rid of the tension now present in her back, but she refused to let herself become so weak.

Maura grinned and returned her gaze back to the noticeably relaxing foot in her hands. "Our feet do so much work and they don't get the attention they deserve," she said matter-of-factly. "There are a number of nerve endings there, so they're very sensitive. They really need better care. Not just from you, but from anyone."

"You're avoiding," Jane whispered. She saw Maura's smile fade, and started to feel bad. "Maura, ya don't have to tell me nothin' if ya don't want to."

"I don't want to tell you nothing, I want to tell you…" _Everything_. After a short pause, she resumed: "I think it would feel good to tell someone." It took her another few moments to collect her thoughts and decide how she wanted to phrase them. Using mostly the heel of her hand, she pushed Jane's toes back. "I was so excited to get out here," she murmured. "I had to get away from Boston. I had to leave that town, where my father's memory lingered everywhere. The hospital, the station, the library, our home. Father was queer about things sometimes. He wanted very much for me to learn his work, to be equipped with the knowledge he had spent so many years acquiring. But he also made it very clear that he wanted me to be a lady. And I was happy to be one. I _am_ happy to be one."

"He must've loved your hands," Jane said. "Your fingers are really—really smooth, I mean. Very, uh, ladylike."

"I wear gloves during the day," Maura said simply, her hands rubbing down from the bottom of Jane's leg to her foot, rotating it at the ankle. "I noticed you do as well. You must have nice hands, too."

Jane merely grunted in reply. She very highly doubted that her reason for covering her hands was anywhere close to Maura's. The ice in the towel pressed against her nose was melting slowly, and she had to keep adjusting the it, making it tighter in accordance with the ice's steadily shrinking size.

"Anyway," Maura said, pressing her hand hard against Jane's heel before moving to the other foot, "I was always a bit… ostracized at home. That is, other people my age tended to avoid me. Except for Garrett. His father brought him to see my father when we were seven, as Garrett had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. He started talking to me, and I talked back, and the next day he came back to me with a butterfly he'd caught. Other kids poked fun at me, and he'd ask them to stop. Sometimes they did, but usually they didn't."

"Why'd they make fun of ya?" Jane asked, not able to believe anything could be mockable about this gorgeous, kind, intelligent woman.

"Oh, you know," Maura said with a light shrug. "For being the doctor's daughter. I was around death all the time. That's one of reasons my father and I strived for me to become as much of a lady as possible, to minimize the ridicule. As I got older it got better, but I never forgot that Garrett had always been sweet to me. He was the best friend I had, and he didn't care that sometimes the other boys teased him for it."

"Good man," Jane said.

"Very. We became engaged a while ago, and Garrett came out here for work. We both thought it would be a wonderful opportunity, and it has been. He thought I would love the change of scenery, and the different culture out here."

"So?" Jane asked, still sitting on the very edge of the bed and now gripping the sheets tightly to keep herself from reacting too strongly to Maura's work on her foot. "Why were ya crying, then?"

Maura took a shuddering breath to steady herself, to keep more tears at bay. Fortunately she was successful in this venture. "Because in spite of all, I _do _miss Boston. Oh yes, it was so exciting to come out here and discover a new place. I've always loved to travel—I've been to Europe several times, and I've covered all of New England more than once. Your land out here, it's nothing like I've ever seen, but… but Boston is my home. Leaving there meant leaving my father and all I have ever really known. It's… frightening. For so many days I was just focused on _getting _here, and seeing Garrett again—and oh, it was wonderful—but when I got back to this room a few hours ago and unpacked my belongings, it struck me that it really had happened. I really had left. I found myself missing the most mundane things—the green grass, the baker's brash accent, the… pinched-up face of Sara Beth Donavan."

Jane chuckled slightly. Another long silence passed, and Jane assumed that Maura had finished. She had been homesick for a place she didn't think she'd miss and let herself cry about it. But there was still one unanswered question: "What happened to your mother?" Jane asked.

With another deep breath, Maura responded, unconsciously exerting greater pressure on Jane's foot than she had intended. "My mother is the reason I have been to Europe so often." She wished Jane hadn't asked; she wished she could lie; she wished she could have deflected. But Maura knew if she put it off too long, she would feel sick, and that was the last thing she wanted to be right now. Besides, a cross-dressing frontier woman wouldn't judge her for this, wouldn't judge her for something that wasn't her fault. So in a breathier, would-be nonchalant tone, Maura continued: "It was quite the scandal for a while—another reason many of the children were wary of me. My mother was something of a bohemian. She's an artist. She had spent much of her lifetime in Europe studying art, and when she graduated from the Academy, came back to Boston. Her family urged her to wed my father, hoping it would ground her and lend her some respectability and stability. But she was restless. After I was born, she remained restless and she left my father. When I was four she moved back to France to study Impressionism, never asking my father for a divorce. _He _could have divorced _her_, he could have made sure I never saw her, but he was too good a man for that. Even if it meant he could've lost me, too, he sent me to Europe so I could be cultured as he believed a young lady should. My mother was distant …if I was in France she would see me, but rather than take me to other places in Europe herself, she would send me along with friends or extended family. Some of them didn't even speak English, and I knew only a few phrases in French, Spanish, and Italian. She was busy, she was always too busy …and as much as I did adore Europe, I always was glad to come home, back to Boston, back to my father."

There were a lot of words in that explanation that Jane could not have defined, but she understood the main essence of it: Maura's mother had abandoned her. She was still alive but didn't care enough about her own daughter to be there. It made Jane's blood boil—that seemed far worse, than having your mother die. It was disgusting that women like that could exist while women like Angela lost their children.

"I'm sorry," Jane said in a gravelly voice, knowing the words were useless.

"It's all right," Maura said with a light sigh, trying to sound optimistic. "It used to be awful, and I suppose it still is, but I've had time to adjust. Actually I wanted to thank _you_, Jane."

"Me? What for?"

"Well, it's odd. You seem… sometimes you seem like two different people. But it's only my first day here and you've taken such good care of me. I've spent more time with you than I have with Garrett, and if today was any indication of his schedule, I may not see as much of him as I had hoped. Thank you for the flowers."

"Oh—oh, they were just… to welcome you to town."

"I know," Maura sniffed, still holding tears back. "You and—meeting Angela and your brothers made me feel that in spite of my homesickness, I may be able to make it home here yet. Thank you." With one more stroke, she finally released Jane's foot. She cleared her throat and looked up for the first time in several minutes, now kneeling between Jane's feet. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

That's when it happened: Jane was hit hard over the head with a memory that had been threatening to surface ever since Maura had first gotten on the floor in front of her. She looked back into Maura's sweetly smiling face, those eyes shining earnestly, so desperate for a friend (even an outlaw, although she was suspecting that if the Sheriff knew of Jane's alternate identity, Jane had to be decent). _Is there anything else I can do for you? _Jane was sweating, her mouth open slightly, tension balling up between her shoulder blades and burrowing down into her stomach. Throwing down the ice pack, she grabbed her jeans where Maura had left them and got abruptly to her feet, nearly kicking Maura as she did so.

"No—I have to—I have to go, Maura, I'm sorry."

Maura stood up quickly, looking anxious. "Jane, are you all right? Is it something I did, or said—?"

"No, no, it ain't you," Jane said. "I just have to go. I'm—thank you for the, for my jeans and the other thing. My feet. They feel a whole lot better. But I have to go—bye." And so, forgetting her boots and the burgundy, Jane opened the door and sped down the hall and stairs as fast as she could go, leaving a thoroughly bewildered doctor behind.

Were it not for the bright moon over head, it would have been pitch black outside, but Jane could've gotten where she was going even if she were blind. Not many people were out, which was nice because she didn't want anyone gawking at her in this dress. She grit her teeth and scrunched her nose, which was starting to hurt as the cool night air whipped the newly-numb area. Rough dirt and pebbles wreaked new havoc on the bare feet Maura had just so tenderly tried restoring to comfort, but Jane barely noticed as she hurtled down a number of back roads and through another small thicket. When she could hear the creek water in the distance, she quickened her steps, trying to listen over her hammering heart for evidence of another person's presence. But she heard none; she heard only the rushing water of the creek, the twigs cracking under her feet, and an owl in the distance. As soon as the creek was in sight, she tossed her jeans carelessly to the ground and pulled the blue dress up over her head. With a tad more caution, she slung it over a tree branch before throwing herself, fully nude, into the deepest area of the creek.

Fully submerged for a few moments, she tried filling her head with nothing but the sound of the water that surrounded her. But she had to surface for air, and the memory was pounding at her brain like the smallest waves against a nearby rock.

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><p><em>She was excited by the plan. She felt ready, she felt good. It had been brewing for a few months now: she would find the man who had killed her father. Of that she had always been sure, but now she knew how'd she go about it. She would masquerade as a man like him. Pretend to express interest in being an apprentice of sorts. Somehow she would track him down, she would find him, she would gain his trust. And then she would kill him. <em>

_The only way to do this would be to disguise herself beyond recognition. She would of course have to cover her hands, as he would be certain to recognize his own handiwork. But she would go further than that, much further, and dress as a boy. He would never see it coming. No one would. _

_The time had come to test her disguise. She had (rather cleverly, she thought) managed to get enough hairpins from Angela to tie up her hair in such a tight bun that, when covered with a hat, it appeared merely as though she had very short, very cropped hair. Her small chest was also an asset to the disguise, but she further aided it by wearing several thin layers and a vest on top of it all. She wore striped pants tucked into a musty pair of brown boots, and had spent several weeks observing the way respected men in her town walked, learning to mimic them. She mimicked their every manner: the way they spoke, the words they emphasized, the way they leaned over a counter to flirt. Yes sir, she had it all down._

_When she was seventeen, she started going out of town twice a week to Green Forge, the next nearest settlement. She would tell Frankie and Tommy that she was just out riding, but in her saddlebag was her disguise for Jake Wyatt, as she had decided to start calling herself. She'd go to a bar in Green Forge and play cards, smoke cigars, drink beer. She gained the trust of the men there, appearing with her fresh face to be a young man interested in joining some kind of racket. They spoke (and swore) freely in front of her, thoughtlessly dropping clues regarding the whereabouts of this or that criminal (which Jane frequently reported to Korsak. When said crooks were captured, he'd ask how she knew. "A little bird told me."). _

_The fifth week this had happened, Jane drank much more than she ever had in her life. This was an easy feat, as she had only started drinking when she became Jake Wyatt. But dressing like him made her feel confident and breezy like nothing else had before. This night she threw back more whiskey than half the men at her table. They thought Jake was hilarious and gutsy. A barmaid, who Jane hazily remembered to be name Miranda, kept looking over at her. Actually, she had been looking ever since Jane had started coming there. Tonight, Jane did something about it. She winked at her, and Miranda grinned back. With encouragement from her new friends, Jane beckoned for the girl to come over._

"_What can I do for you, Mr. Wyatt?" she asked breathlessly. _

_Jane smirked, proud that she knew his… her name. _

"_You can take him upstairs, sweetheart," said one of the men at the table when Jane failed to respond. "He's mighty tired, you see. This here's a tavern, ain't it? Go ahead and give him a room, and put it on my tab." _

"_That all right, Mr. Wyatt?" Miranda asked, smiling widely. _

_With a drunken nod, Jane solemnly folded her arms and said, "Why, sure! Love to stay. I'd love to stay, I really would."_

_Somehow they had wound up in a room upstairs, and Jane was sitting on the edge of a bed with Miranda on her knees in front of her, removing her boots. Jane was aware that she was tottering as she sat, in danger of falling over at any moment, but retaining the ability to remain steady—or just steady enough. "Good," she muttered when Miranda had taken off her second boot. "You're real cute, you know that? Thanks, Miranda." _

"_Actually, my name's Marianne," the girl said, biting her lip and blushing._

"_Oh. Why'd ya say your name's Miranda?" _

"_Well, on account of I didn't want nobody I know to know I work here," she said, as if this were plain as day. As she spoke, her hands moved up Jane's clothed legs, rubbing and stroking them. "I mean, my family would be ashamed, wouldn't they?"_

"_Wouldn't they," Jane agreed with a tipsy nod._

"_But I wanted you to know my real name. I wanted to hear you say it."_

"_Marianne." _

_She moaned softly, loving the way it sounded in that deep voice. "Yes."_

"_Yes. And I'm—I'm Jake Wyatt, y'know?"_

"_I do know," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Wyatt?"_

_Her hands had reached Jane's thighs, and that's when a lightning bolt of realization cut through Jane's hazy, drunken mind: if those girl's hands went any higher, she was sure to notice a certain piece of anatomy that Jake was missing. Marianne was making an advance, she wanted to roll those pinstriped pants right down and join Jane on that small, squalid bed. Her family __would__ be ashamed. She started spreading Jane's thighs slowly apart, her thumbs rubbing small circles that would burn Jane there for days. _

"_Any__thing…Mr. Wyatt?" _

_Marianne's voice jarred Jane back to reality, and she sat up abruptly, inadvertently knocking Marianne to the floor. She raced out of the room and back downstairs, past the men that were laughing boisterously at the sight of her running away from what they had assumed would've been a great opportunity. Jane jumped on her horse and did her best to lead it home, back to Hollow Creek, back to her own room. _

_She had thought it would be a laugh. She had thought it would be amusing to make a girl fancy her. But she rode home with tears streaming down her cheeks, hot and salty, leaving a burning trace of guilt in her mouth. It had been wrong to lead that girl on like that. It wasn't nice to her. It frightened Jane to think she could have aroused something like that in another woman, and she made a promise to herself from that moment on never to consciously encourage a woman while she was dressed as Jake Wyatt. The area between her legs had been throbbing but died down as she rode; she hardly noticed because her whole body was shaking, her chest felt like a stone, and her head was still blurry. _

_Somehow she made it back home, and she stumbled into bed without removing her clothes. By the time she woke up the next day, hungover and exhausted, she barely paid any attention to her clothes before taking them off to wash them. The wet substance between her legs on the union suit she wore beneath her clothes had dried, leaving behind only a trace of an odor and a slightly discolored splotch on white. _


	7. In Which Jane Finds a Tortoise

**A/N**: I know it may seem like I'm pushing it with anachronisms, especially in this chapter, but I try to do research to make sure I'm staying within the time period's limits. If I'm not and I know it, I'll tell you. But I was surprised the word "awesome" was used, although I admit probably **not** in the way I did. (The only reason I did was, as I'm guessing most of you will know, because it's yet another **movie reference **that I truly could not resist throwing in.) Happy reading!

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><p>Maura had a terrible time trying to fall asleep that night. She had been utterly blindsided by Jane's sudden departure—what had warranted it? Everything seemed to have been going well, and it had felt so good to be able to confide her apprehensions in somebody. Maybe it even helped to have it be someone she hardly knew. It hadn't dawned on her until that evening that she may have had another reason besides Garrett to make a move: being somewhere new could bring friends. Real friends. Not those women in Boston who pretended to get on with her because she had a respected father or because she was engaged to someone as important as Garrett Fairfield. In Hollow Creek, she had a chance to start over, a chance to have people see her as a real person—not the doctor's daughter, not the bohemian's offspring. Just Maura.<p>

An indescribable thrill had shot through Maura when, just as she was about to go to bed, Melody had knocked on her door to announce that Jane was there to visit. But when the woman had inexplicably bolted directly after Maura had confessed so much, it hurt. Maura's chest felt tight, although she wondered if that had more to do with the change of weather and the different altitude she had not yet adjusted to. Yes, that must have been it. Eventually she was able to fall into a dreamless sleep thanks only to her exhaustion.

The next morning, she walked downstairs in a two-piece, lavender-colored outfit. Made entirely of cotton, it breathed easier than the dress she had been wearing yesterday, and the full bell sleeves let in more air as she walked, slipping past the black lace trim. Maura supposed her unerring sense of fashion had also been what garnered attention from ladies back in Boston, eager to be her disciples—and though Maura had always been happy to advise, she did wish other women would value something in her besides her taste in clothes. The ruched jacket she was currently wearing had actually been her last purchase in Boston; she had never worn it out there. She thought the bustled look would fit the West, and she was right: every woman she passed on her way to the dining hall had something complimentary to say, either about the jacket or the forty-inch matching skirt that ended with yards of black lace.

"Good morning, Miss Isles!" chirped Melody, when Maura walked into the small dining room towards the back of the boarding house. "My, don't you look lovely! How did you sleep?"

"All right, thank you," Maura said, taking a seat at a solitary table. _Eventually_.

"I hope your visitor didn't keep you up too late," Melody said.

Maura looked up at her, momentarily unsure of who she meant. "Oh! Oh, Jane. No, she was fine. It was all right. Do you have eggs?"

Melody raised her eyebrows. "We certainly do, Miss Isles. How would you like them prepared?"

"Poached."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, please."

About ten minutes later, Melody returned with the dish, and Maura didn't realize how hungry she had been. But before her proprietress could walk away, Maura said, "Melody, may I ask you something?"

"Of course," Melody said, pulling up a chair.

"What do you know about Jake Wyatt?"

She glanced up from her eggs to see that Melody looked extremely surprised. "Sorry, Miss Isles," she chuckled after a long pause. "I keep forgetting exactly how far you traveled to get here. Anybody with eyes, ears, or a _friend _with eyes or ears knows about Jake Wyatt."

"That's what I keep hearing," Maura said with a frown. "But then nobody elaborates."

"Jake Wyatt," Melody muttered, thoughtfully tapping her chin. "How do I begin to describe Jake Wyatt?"

Maura jumped when three other women suddenly descended upon their table, one looking tawdry, one a widow, and one who didn't look like she could be any older than sixteen. It was this youngest one who put forth, "Jake Wyatt is flawless."

"He has enough money to fill two bank accounts, _and _his horse has shoes made of solid gold," offered the tawdry one.

"I hear he insured that horse for five hundred dollars."

"I hear when Commodore Perry went to open Japan for Western trade, he brought Jake Wyatt with him to help sell American carriages," said the old widow.

"His favorite play is _MacBeth_," giggled the younger girl.

The heretofore pleasant smell of eggs was shoved out of Maura's nose and replaced by the unwelcome scent of cheap perfume that was splashed all over the gaudily-dressed woman as she leaned closer to say, "Once, he met Billy the Kid, and Billy told him he thought Jake was a _rogue_!"

"One time," started the youngest one, "he shot my uncle in the foot. It was awesome."

Melody had finally had enough. "All right, the lot of ya! Don't be ridiculous! Dearie, I know you and many others like you think Jake Wyatt is a handsome scoundrel, but what he's done keeps him a far cry from flawless! No one has enough money to insure a blasted animal for five hundred dollars, or buy gold horseshoes- I don't care _how _rich ya are! And Japan's been open for the better part of thirty years, so unless Commodore Perry saw fit to bring Jake's expectant mother out East with him, I don't think Jake would have been of much help there. And you all ought to know better than to be impressed that Billy the Kid would state the obvious. Now back to your tables, go on, this is a private conversation! Shoo!" She waited until the women (still gossiping, still giggling) dispersed before turning back to Maura, who looked nothing short of shell-shocked. "_That's _probably why nobody elaborates," Melody said with an exasperated smile. "Very few people who've really met Jake Wyatt live to tell about it."

"Is that a fact?" Maura asked.

"I do feel secure in telling you that much, Miss, yes," Melody said seriously. "He's right famous for his nasty temper. I'm skeptical about most stories I hear, unless I hear the same thing from a number of people or read about it in the papers. But even then, you know, you can't trust the paper about everything."

"What…_have _you heard?" Maura was almost afraid to ask. "Aside from his temper, I mean."

"Well, let's see," Melody sighed, leaning back. "I know he drinks like there's no tomorrow, and I'm sure that don't help his temper at all. He don't seem to stick to one area, neither. From what I can tell, there've been sightings of him all _over _the West! Sort of gives the feeling that he's restless, you know? A wanderer. Apparently don't like to make attachments of any kind—word is he prefers to work alone, so he gets a new partner every once in a while to keep from getting attached. Always Negros or Indians." Maura wondered how Frost would feel to know people assumed this, but then wondered if that was part of their overall plan. What Melody said next made Maura choke on her last piece of egg: "He's also said to have something of a reputation when it comes to women—real heartbreaker. Miss Isles, are you all right?"

She had to ask because Maura was gasping for breath. "Yes," she managed to say. "That last bite, it just… it didn't go down very well."

"Can I get you some water?"

"Oh, that's quite all right, thank you. I think I've kept you from the rest of your guests long enough," she said, and with a last concerned look, Melody got up to serve some new customers.

Maura was done eating, but she stayed seated a short while longer, trying to wrap her head around everything that had just been divulged to her. She had no problem dismissing what her three impromptu visitors had said, but Melody's notions stuck with her. They were troubling, particularly that last one. Of course if Jake wanted to be considered a consummate reprobate, he would have to go around breaking women's hearts. But beneath that male façade pumped the blood of an American woman, the heart of an American woman, the mind of an American woman. Was it really worth it to Jane to go on these escapades, when it meant she had to pretend to be interested in seducing women?

Maura chalked it up to a number of things she was sure she would never understand about Jane. At this point she definitely understood very little of Jane's motivations for having an alternate identity, so she decided to reserve judgment until she learned more. But as she walked out of the boarding house and into the bright sunlight, she couldn't help feeling a strange twinge of pleasure about being one of the few people who knew both Jane and Jake, and knew they were the same person. But the pride drained out of her as she started walking towards Garrett's office, still troubled over why Jane had shot off so fast last night. She tried not to think about it too much, resolving simply to ask about it later. Garrett had promised to take her out on the lake this morning before lunch—maybe afterwards, she could go by Angela's and see if Jane was there.

Jane, meanwhile was asleep on the back porch of Korsak's ranch. He had just arrived and stepped outside to check on the horses, moving quite noisily as he did so, and waking Jane in the process. He hadn't seen her yet, so she called out to him, very nearly causing him to fall over in alarm. Korsak whipped around, and when he saw the source of his near-heart attack, said, "Jesus, Mary, and the whole damn barn, Jane! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too, old man," she said brightly.

"Angela's about ready to serve your head up on a platter," Korsak said darkly. At Jane's frown, he explained, "She came running by my office two hours ago asking if I'd seen ya. Apparently somebody walked out on my deputy last night…"

"Shut up, Korsak," she grumbled, walking over.

"You wanna tell me the deal here, Jane? Angela was hysterical. She was very upset that you left Grant standing, but she's also afraid you've left town again."

Jane groaned. "I knew I shoulda left a note with that dress."

"_Dress_?" Korsak asked.

"No. Whatever. It's not what you think."

"Did she have you in a _dress_?" he laughed. "Jane Rizzoli?"

"No, the dress was for Grant to wear," Jane said snidely. Last night, she had left the garment on the outside railing by Angela's room. This was only after finding an old shirt to wear with the jeans Maura had so obligingly fixed, which Jane was now wearing along with a rust-colored Brantley striped shirt. "Can you believe her, Korsak? My first day back in town, and all Ma can think about is makin' me have dinner with Grant."

"Well, Jane, she's like a mother to ya. You can't fault her for thinking it's time you were…"

"If you say 'settled' again, Korsak, I'm gonna shoot you in the gut. Or maybe some place you might actually feel it."

"Ha, ha, tough guy," Korsak said, rolling his eyes. "What're you doing here, anyway? Did you sleep here?"

"Yes, I did," Jane said without an ounce of embarrassment. "I happen to know that today is the last Saturday of the month, and you always go over to Wohaw Springs on the last Saturday of October."

"If you think I'm taking you with me, you've got another think comin'," Korsak said. "You took that dog yesterday, and where is she now?"

"Frost's been watchin' her for me," Jane said innocently. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Korsak. I ain't goin' for me. I'm… I'd just like to see the merchandise."

"What for?"

"Oh, I dunno. Jo Friday might need a friend." With a hoarse laugh, she put her arm around Korsak and drew him closer. "C'mon, old timer, you and I both know there ain't no use fightin' it. You're taking me."

And of course, as was usually the case, Jane was right.

For nearly as long as Jane could remember, Korsak had met with an expert tradesman three times a year over in Wohaw Springs. This particular tradesman happened to specialize in exotic animals, which he traveled the country (and occasionally the world) collecting. Ever the animal enthusiast, Korsak was easily the man's best and most reliable customer. Unfortunately, Hollow Creek was a bit _too _exotic for many of these creatures, with the incomparably sad result that most of them died prematurely. With each death reported to the tradesman, he got better at gathering helpful information for each animal he bought, with the result that he could then pass on his wisdom to buyers (for a higher price). Korsak generally preferred to go alone, as he tended to get mushy around animals and didn't want too many people to see that side of him, but he agreed to let Jane tag along if she would row. Her only reply was that she needed the exercise.

Although Wohaw Springs was accessible by road, it was fastest to get there by crossing Sparrow Lake. The humble creek for which their town was named poured into it, easily the most scenic body of water around. It was fairly sizeable, also, meaning that typically more than one party was on it at a time for various reasons. When Korsak was traveling it alone, it might take him the better part of an hour to cross over to Wohaw Springs, but with Jane at the oars, the time was considerably less. The lake was too wide and the heat too hazy to be able to make out any other souls on the water, but one thing that was certainly loud and clear was the engine of a nearby, tiny steamboat.

"Can you beat that?" Jane grunted, having to speak louder than usual to be heard over the roar of the steamboat. "I tell ya, whoever's on that thing better be in a hurry to get some place, or all he's doin' is ruining a perfectly beautiful atmosphere!"

As it was, the owner of the boat was none other than Garrett Fairfield, who had splurged (perhaps unwisely) on it when he made his first big deal in Hollow Creek. He couldn't wait to show off his acquisition of this recent technology to his fiancé, who was duly impressed with the boat's capabilities, but privately wished it didn't need to be quite so loud: it was a thrilling invention, but came at the cost of being able to really converse with Garrett, who spent much of their time on the lake standing proudly and possessively by the bow, like a well-coiffed monument to seafaring. After they'd been on the water for about twenty minutes or so, he deigned to walk back to Maura, who was sitting in the middle of the boat with her parasol held daintily aloft over her shoulder.

"Isn't it beautiful, Maura?" he asked, nearly having to shout. "The lake, I mean!"

"Oh, yes!" she replied, struggling to make herself be heard. "But now that we're out here, do you think you could maybe turn off the motor for a—"

"Wait!" he interrupted her, digging into his pocket and producing a pair of opera glasses. "I brought these so you could take a closer look at those mountain ranges over there," he said, gesturing needlessly towards the formations. "If you're lucky, you might see an Indian smoke signal, or some workers coming back from the mine!"

This was of course a very intriguing proposal to Dr. Isles, so she eagerly accepted the pseudo-binoculars and held them up to her eyes as Garrett walked back to the front of the boat. It took her a moment to orient her vision to the mountains, and as she looked, she caught sight of a small rowboat that was quite a ways off. Was that—the Sheriff? Yes. And Jane was rowing his boat. _Oh, my_.

Maura's heart made an uncomfortable leap at the sight: Jane's dark hair was pulled back away from her face, presumably held up with a small knot of some kind; her face was dark and serious under the unrelenting sun. But easily the most impressive visual were her arms, particularly the bare forearms. Due to the intense heat (and, no doubt, the strenuous work she was currently doing), her shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing the strains of her muscles as she rowed. The hollow of her neck was exaggerated with each shove of the oars as she arched back and forth, sweat sheening her tanned skin. Every now and then Jane would slide a little forward on the seat to give herself a bit of a power boost to yank back with, often contorting her face a bit with each grunt of exertion.

"Gorgeous sight, isn't it, Maura?" Garrett called over his shoulder.

"Yes," she breathed, not knowing or caring that Garrett couldn't hear her.

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><p>After her too-brief excursion with Garrett on the lake (which had ended with him finally cutting the motor, surprising her with a basket lunch so they could talk and enjoy the scenery together), Maura returned to Melody's to start writing some letters. She had promised to tell a few of the women back home when she arrived, and how she liked the town. If she stopped to really think about it, there was probably a lot she could write, but as she needed to make four copies of essentially the same letter, she left out most of it. Generic stuff for generic friends.<p>

Garrett had promised to show her the house he had bought (with help from his father) after he got off of work that afternoon, and as Dr. Byron was away visiting family, there was still not much for Maura to do other than explore the town—which she was not keen to do alone. Maybe Jane would be back from the lake now… maybe it would be worth Maura's while to go by Angela's, and see if Jane was around. Then they could talk about whatever it was that had spooked Jane last night.

As she walked outside, it was only to be apprehended by none other than Jane herself. Apparently the work-out had been too much for Jane's clothes, as she had changed into Railhead grey pants and a green twill shirt. Her hair was still pulled back, however, just like her dimples were pulling back to reveal a beautiful smile at the sight of Maura.

"Afternoon, Maura!" she said happily, skipping up the steps to join Maura on the porch.

Pleasantly surprised, Maura greeted her back. "Jane, how nice to see you. I was worried after last night that maybe you…" She blushed lightly; she hadn't meant to bring it up so quickly, fearful that it would make her sound like she had been bothered by it. …which she had, but she hadn't wanted Jane to know it, for some reason.

Jane just grinned apologetically, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry about that, Maura. I didn't want to just run out on ya like that, but …I'd… forgotten there was something I had to do, and—I was late. Later than I'd meant to be. I guess I'd just lost track of the time talking to you." _Right, that doesn't sound strange… _But Maura didn't seem to have been put off by it all, because she was beaming brightly. This gave Jane the courage to say, "Anyway, I felt bad just leavin' so quick, so I wanted to try and make it up to ya."

"What? How—I mean, Jane, you shouldn't feel like you have to, um…"

"I didn't do it 'cause I felt like I had to," Jane said with a shrug. "I did it 'cause I wanted to. Come and see." She walked back down the porch steps, turning to glance at Maura over her shoulder. "C'mon!" she said cheerfully at Maura's hesitation.

Wondering where exactly this was going, Maura followed Jane around to the back of the boarding house, where Melody kept a very pristine garden. Long past the many rows of beautiful flowers and just beyond the vegetable patch, Jane picked up a small wooden crate. "Did you trap a rabbit for me?" Maura teased her.

With a low chuckle, Jane shook her head. "I thought about what you were saying last night, about pets. About how animals always die before you. Well, I went out on a mission with Korsak today, and we found this tradesman Korsak's pretty fond of. I asked him if he had any animals for sale that he thought'd outlive a human, and he gave me _this_ little creature." She opened the crate and leaned towards Maura so the woman could peer inside. "I know he ain't particularly attractive," Jane said when Maura failed to say anything. "But he's sort of like the turtles down in the creek, only—only he's called somethin' else and can apparently live up to a good eighty years old."

"A tortoise," Maura said blankly.

"Oh, _that's _right!" Jane said. "Yes."

"You got me a tortoise."

"Well, I…yes, I suppose I did. I figured if you was ever lonely up in that room of yours, and there wasn't any dead folks around, you might like havin' a pet to talk to. One that won't go dying on you, so long's you take care of it according to the book in there. That's of course assuming you can read, which I figure you can, as I figure you're pretty smart."

Maura's expression was entirely impossible to decipher. She was just trying to process this. The tortoise's shell had a beautiful geometric design on it that more than made up for its slightly off-putting, amphibious face. But the thing couldn't help looking that way. It took a microscopic step inside its crate, and Maura cocked her head slightly, still staring at it intently, completely unaware of how closely and how nervously Jane was watching her.

_Ah, this was a stupid idea. She's a lady. What does she want with a monster-looking thing like th—_

"Jane, I love it."

"You do?"

Maura's hazel eyes shifted up to catch Jane's gaze, and she smiled brightly. "I do. I love it. What shall we call him?"

"What should—_you_ call him, is the question," Jane said, thrilled that Maura was pleased. "Korsak was givin' me a hard time all the way back, sayin' I was lousy at coming up with names. I tried thinkin' up some, but the best I could do was name him after the fella that sold him to us."

"Which was who?"

"William Bass."

"Hm…William?" Maura asked, looking back at the tortoise. She got the feeling it wouldn't react to a name quite like Jo had, but she wanted to see how the name sounded in relation to the creature. "William. No. Bass?" And she liked that better. "Bass…" She smiled up at Jane. "I think Bass suits him!"

"You do?" Jane said with a grin. "Yeah, you're right! It _does _suit him, don't it?"

"Oh, but what'll I do about Melody? Korsak said she doesn't allow pets."

"Ah, well," Jane said, carefully setting the crate back down and wiping her hands together a couple of times, "I thought of that already. See the problem with animals is they make noise, or they leave hair, or they knock things over, or they take a piss where they ain't supposed to, right? Well, according to Bass—the, uh, person, that is—Bass the tortoise don't do any of those things. If Melody gives ya any trouble about him, you just let me know, and she and I'll have a little talk."

"Jane, I don't know what to say," Maura half-whispered, unable to stop smiling. "I want to do something for you."

"You already have," Jane said with another shrug. "You fixed my belt loop, and ya fixed my nose."

"Oh yes, I see you didn't keep the ice at it," Maura scolded her lightly.

Jane waved her hand. "Ah, it'll look fine soon."

"Incidentally, you left your boots and your alcohol in my room when you dashed off."

"Oh, did I? I don't suppose you'd like to keep either of them?"

"That's a kind offer, but the boots would most likely be a tad big for me, and I don't drink alcohol."

"Ever?"

"No."

"Never."

"No…"

"You've never had it before?"

"No."

Jane stared. "Well then, I suppose I'd better take that back. It wouldn't do for you to start drinkin' alone." With a wink, she added, "People _always_ find out, and it ruins your reputation. Anyhow, shall I take Bass up to your room now?"

She was about to bend over to pick up the crate again, but Maura put her hand out and lightly touched Jane's arm with a "no, wait." Jane straightened back up and looked at Maura curiously, as Maura deliberated as to whether or not she wanted to do this. But then for the first time in her recent memory, Maura's body acted before her brain could catch up and she slung her arms around Jane's slender frame, pulling her into an embrace. Jane stiffened immediately, but when Maura didn't let go right away, she clumsily put her own arms around the doctor, patting her back awkwardly. She felt Maura inhale sharply and her body started to tremble, cuing Jane to pull back much too soon.

"Maura, what is it?" she asked, seeing that Maura's eyes were suddenly quite watery.

"I'm not sure," Maura garbled, surprised at how fast the emotion had overcome her. "I'm just—I am still confused sometimes by you, Jane, and what you do. I've not even known you for two full days, and yet you've made me feel more welcome in this town than anyone—even more than Garrett, in a way. I don't understand you, but I'm so grateful to you. _Thank_ you, truly."

A long silence followed, and Jane licked her lips before responding: "Don't waste your thanks on me, Maura." She stooped down to pick up Bass' crate again, and nodded her head in the direction of the boarding house, indicating they should head inside. "I reckon there's a lot of things in life I done wrong, and I oughtta do some makin' up for it. Maybe it's 'cause …I dunno, maybe it's 'cause you ain't from around here, and you're sort of alone and you're fresh. To us you're fresh, I mean. New. So you make it easy to want to help you."

"Oh, I see. Am I to be your town's resident damsel-in-distress, then?" Maura joked.

Jane caught her eye and grinned. "Damsel, sure. Distress—I dunno. We may have to test your mettle first. You bring your archery set with you?"

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><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading, folks! I have to say it's somewhat unusual for me to update so much so fast- unfortunately I can't promise the next one until some time probably in the middle of next week, thanks to... life. Also, thanks for responding to the poll! I've put up a new one, so check it out if you want. Also planning to upload a new video to my Rizzles channel today. Ahhh, I love life! :) and reviews, too!


	8. Ready, Aim, Fire

**A/N**: Howdy, everyone! Thanks for your responses to the poll, and of course, thanks as always for your kind reviews. They're like my own special brand of heroin. Anyway, this chapter's a bit shorter, but I'm satisfied with it :) (special shout-out to massad ayoob for his pistol expertise! And to willa cather and edith wharton. Just because.)

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><p>Bass was securely wandering around in his crate in Maura's bedroom while his new owner and Jane headed calmly for the open field behind Melody's boarding house. Jane was dutifully carrying a heavy bag of arrows, while Maura strode confidently by her side with her prized bow in hand. Wood-handled with double-spiraled steel rod limbs, it was quite the beautiful object to behold. Jane had never seen anything like it. Still, it was a bit funny seeing someone as refined as Maura preparing to wield what Jane considered to be a relatively crude weapon.<p>

"So should I make sure I'm a safe distance away when you take aim?" Jane teased her.

"You'll be eating your words in a moment, Calamity Jane," Maura said, narrowing her eyes at Jane and grinning. "I've been first place in Boston's annual women's archery tournament for the last five years, and I've been in New England's top three ever since it was inaugurated."

"Well, well, I suppose I'd better watch my back then," Jane said, her tone still joking, belying how impressed she actually was. They had come to a stop by a wooden barrier, facing a number of haystacks. "Do ya need a formal target?" Jane asked.

"If I'm to astonish you with my hitherto untested-by-you archery abilities, then yes, a target would help," Maura said. "I highly doubt you would be at all impressed if I were merely to hit a haystack."

"Fair point," Jane said, dropping the bag of arrows and looking around for a makeshift target. She spotted a pair of boots that looked quite abandoned, sitting by the wooden fence. They were old and dirty, and she figured they wouldn't be missed. Although Maura protested at this choice (what if the boot's owner was to suddenly appear, or what if he needed them?), Jane ignored her and walked towards the nearest haystack. Assuming that Maura wasn't accustomed to shooting at an angle, Jane held the boot up in front of what she approximated was the center of the haystack.

"That's fine, Jane, but when you let go, gravity dictates that the boot will fall, regardless of whether or not I hit it," Maura felt obligated to point out.

"I'm figured as much, Maura. I'm going to keep holding it, and you're gonna hit it while I do."

"But Jane—are you sure?"

Jane gave her a withering look. "Am I, Jake Wyatt, sure that I'm not afraid to be holding a target for Boston's allegedly best female archer?"

That got Maura to smile again. "Allegedly? Just you wait, Jane…" She bent down to pick up an arrow, and fitted it quickly to her bow. Holding it aloft made her feel a little more control over her surroundings in this rugged terrain, gave her a small, pleasing feeling of power. The instrument was relatively light, yet heavy in its influence. Maura drew back, aiming her arrow just above the boot, then released the arrow with both her eyes open. As she had expected, she hit her target perfectly on mark, and wasn't sure if she ought to be disappointed or glad that Jane appeared completely unfazed.

"Not bad, Dr. Isles," Jane said, pulling the arrow out of the thin material of the boot. "Not bad at all. I noticed ya kept both your eyes open …is that what you're s'posed to do?"

"I find it helps, yes," Maura said, tugging at the string of her bow. "Shooting with both eyes open gives one a much brighter and more natural field-of-view. It goes against instinct, but sometimes going against natural impulses brings out the best results in life." She caught Jane's eye and smirked. "You don't think you've sufficiently tested my mettle, do you? Fine. See that wheelbarrow down there?"

Jane turned and saw the wheelbarrow sitting by the farthest haystack, quite a distance away from where Maura was standing. "Yeah?"

"Go climb on top of it and put the boot on the top of the haystack, so the bottom of the shoe is facing me. I'll hit it clean through the heel."

"And if you don't?"

Maura was confident enough to wager, "I'll drink your burgundy."

"All right, it's a deal!" Jane laughed, walking towards the wheelbarrow.

"But," Maura called after her. "If I _do_…" She waited until Jane turned back to look at her, her smile faltering slightly. Maura tried quickly to come up with a good idea, but her mind was buzzing blank. Finally, she settled on: "If I do hit it, you've got to promise to tell me something. Anything about Jake Wyatt—why you pretend to be him, why you haven't told your brothers or Angela about him, or what it is you do when you're masquerading." She took a deep breath, noticing even from a distance that Jane did not appear thrilled by this bet. "You wouldn't have to tell me right away. Just at some point."

After a long silence (considering it seriously, because she felt very much that Maura was going to hit her target), Jane nodded. "All right. I promise. Eventually." And she continued her trek towards the farthest haystack, telling herself it was a safe vow to make. She could tell Maura any small thing and the woman would be satisfied. And there was no set time or date to share it —technically, Jane could wait years and still be good on her promise. She could wait until there was no real need for Jake to exist anymore. With this slightly dark thought on her mind, Jane clambered on top of the wheelbarrow and put the boot in as steady a position as she could. Instead of signaling for Maura to go, she walked back. She wanted to see Maura in form close up, never having seen someone draw a bow from a tight vicinity.

Maura raised an eyebrow at her, feeling a little more pressure now that Jane was standing so close to her. Jane pretended to act cool, just grinning and clasping her hands patiently behind her back. Pursing her lips, Maura feigned a scowl and fitted another arrow to her bow. She pulled it up again, but took considerably longer this time to aim, as her target was much farther away. In doing this, she inadvertently gave Jane more of an opportunity to admire her fine form: there was a beauty in the symmetry of the bow and how Maura held it, its bottom tip perfectly aligned with her waist. Her full bell sleeves stopped just below her elbows, and if Jane squinted, she could make out the minutely-strained muscles of Maura's forearm as she pulled the arrow back. She instinctively closed her right eye before forcing it open again, and the sunlight hit both her hazel eyes in such a way as to make Jane wonder whether she or anyone else had ever seen something so intensely beautiful as Maura Isles preparing to shoot an arrow. She looked like a character out of a book, an allegorical figure, meant to represent truth and justice and the American way. Look out world, here I come.

So fascinated was she by watching Maura, Jane barely had time to turn her head to watch the arrow fly when Maura released it without warning, and within a second or two, a dull thud announced that it had hit its target. Jane chuckled in mild disbelief, and Maura proudly lowered her bow, shooting Jane a victorious look.

"Looks like you owe me a secret," Maura said in a sing-song voice.

"In time, in time," Jane snorted, waving her hand but unable to rid herself of a duly impressed smile. "Let me ask ya something, though. You ever used that thing to defend yourself?"

"Good heavens, I should say not!" Maura laughed, as if the need to ever defend herself was entirely ludicrous.

"I thought you'd say that," Jane said. "In which case, you may still be in distress someday. Indians are the only ones around here that use bows and arrows, and I think it'd do us all good to learn by your example and take it up, too. That is, if you could bring yourself to actually use that thing as a _weapon_, which is what God intended it to be."

"Oh, I could never do that," Maura said, leaning her bow against the wooden fence. "Archery is nothing but sport to me."

She jumped when Jane casually pulled her gun out of its holster and made a show of twirling it around her finger. "Then what you need is to learn how to use one of these," she said, stepping closer to Maura and extending the handle towards her. "Go ahead, give it a try." Jane chuckled at Maura's hesitancy. "C'mon, Maura. Ya can't hope to survive out here without at least a basic knowledge of how this thing works."

Basic knowledge, eh? "I know that it's a Colt pistol," Maura said, "Probably circa… 1873, also called the 'Peacemaker.' Six-shooter with heavy-cast zinc construction, an antiqued finish, and a European hardwood handle. The barrel is four and three-quarter inches long, allowing—"

"Have you ever _shot _one?" Jane asked, her tone humorously exasperated but also patient.

Maura pursed her lips. "No."

"Would ya let me teach you?"

"Why do you want to?"

Jane shrugged. "I figure there ain't ever any harm in learnin' self-defense. Go on, Maura. Just humor me. I'll even take the bullets out for ya, look," she added, opening the cylinder with one easy flick and taking out the ammo.

Rolling her eyes, Maura reached for the gun, and was shocked at how heavy it was for such a small object. Jane barely managed to contain a laugh, merely saying, as Maura awkwardly tried to securely grasp the gun, "Shooting good is simple, it just ain't easy."

"Well."

"What?"

"Shooting _well_, not good. Really, Jane, your grammar is awful…"

"Can we focus on you for a second, please?" Jane asked.

"Well have you got a rifle or something I could try first?" Maura asked. "With a pistol, there's less to hold on to. The radius between the front and rear sight is shorter than there would be with a rifle, which means there's a greater unnoticed human error factor in aiming. Furthermore, you don't have that third locking point on the shoulder that you would on a—"

"Rifle, got it," Jane said, marveling at Maura's apparently unceasing ability to fire off stats. "You are just a… _fountain_ of information, aren't ya?"

"Have you got one, Jane? A rifle?"

"Yes, but I don't think I've known you long enough to show ya my rifle yet," Jane deadpanned, avoiding Maura's eyes as she went to correct her grip, prying the doctor's left hand away from the gun. "Here's what ya do—you curl your thumb down for strength, and your second finger on the trigger for maximum control. Get your hand high up there—good. See, if it's any lower than that, the pressure on the trigger will pull down the muzzle, and you'll shoot lower than ya meant."

Maura squinted and pretended to take aim at something. "Like this?"

It would be easier to do this if at least one of them wasn't wearing gloves, but Jane had to do the best she could. Gingerly holding the barrel of the pistol between two fingers, she used her other hand to tap Maura's slightly. "Your grip is a little too tight. Pretend you're holdin' a quail, a live quail—you've got to hold on firmly enough that it won't fly away, but not so firm that you'll hurt it."

With this visual in mind, Maura was able to sufficiently loosen her grip to Jane's satisfaction. Narrowing her eyes again, she imagined she was about to shoot a wild outlaw off his horse. Maura looked back only to see Jane's amused smile when she said, "You look good."

Maura bashfully returned the grin, pleased at the praise, but then heard another low chuckle escape Jane as she reached back for her pistol. "You're laughing at me," Maura snickered.

"Only 'cause I was worried if you held that thing any more daintily, you'd be stickin' your pinky out next," Jane said, loading the ammunition back into the pistol before lazily stowing the weapon into her holster. "Shall we go collect your arrows?"

"Probably a good idea," Maura conceded. "And while we're at it, we could put that dilapidated boot back, as well."

"Yes, I'm sure its owner is anxious for its riddled reappearance," Jane joked, stooping to pick up the first arrow that Maura had shot. When they reached the second one a few moments later, Jane came to an abrupt stop, automatically throwing out her arm to halt Maura's progress.

"What's wrong?" Maura asked curiously.

Jane shushed her gently, and Maura needed only to follow Jane's fixated stare to see what the hold-up was: lying near the other side of the haystack was one of the largest snakes either of them had ever seen, sunning himself and apparently asleep—for the moment, anyway. Even though neither woman had done anything to warrant awakening it, the snake's long, loose body began to coil as if it were stirring out of a state of slumber. Though never one to have admitted it to anybody, Jane could not help feeling scared around snakes, but she felt an urge to act cool and brave about it in front of Maura. This came from a twin desire to impress her but also protect her, as Jane thought it would be wise for at least one of them to keep a calm head about this, and she very highly doubted it would be the woman whose nails were currently digging into her shirt strongly enough to draw blood.

The snake was probably about as thick as Jane's arm, pulsing with frightening muscularity as it simultaneously lifted its gargoyle-like little head and rattled its tail. Her first instinct was to step back—surely she could outrun it—but this was impossible, due mostly to the fact that Maura was standing right behind her, clutching her, seemingly frozen in fright. And Jane couldn't blame her. Jane's breath tightened as she saw the snake's coils tighten, and she knew from experience that it was about to spring the entire length of its body. Quickly telling herself to picture it as just another warm-blooded, human enemy, Jane pulled her pistol back out of its holster and shot the snake right through its head as it was about to strike. She felt Maura's grip tighten but then let go immediately, and without turning around she knew Maura had jumped back in shock of the brutality of the action. Jane didn't bother thinking about that as the snake was now about her feet in wavy loops, doubled back on itself.

"Well," Jane said in a much higher tone than usual after an excessively long pause. She cleared her throat and holstered her pistol again, successfully trying to act as though killing snakes were part of her daily routine. "That was exciting, wasn't it, Maura?"

"You're incredible," was all Maura could think to say, though she looked very much as if she were about to be violently sick.

To anyone else, Jane might've said, "Yes, yes I am," but with the embarrassingly bare comment coming from Maura, she hardly knew how to react. "You get used to rattlers out here," she eventually said, sidestepping the snake to pick up the boot they had used as a target. "If you're ever cornered by one, just for its head. Throw the biggest thing you can find at it. This boot might've done nicely, if you hadn't destroyed it yourself…"

"Oh dear, I _do _feel bad about that," Maura said.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I put you up to it," Jane muttered. "Or, actually…" She grinned wickedly at Maura, then dropped the boot back near the snake. "Let's just let old Farmer whosits think the snake done it."

And how proud Jane would have been had she been around the next day when the man found the remnants of the wild reptile and his shoe: "There's a _snake _in my boot!"

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><p><strong>AN**: Well...yeah. I had to get a _Toy Story _reference in here at some point, and I can't promise this will be the last time. Because it probably won't. (please review! The other day I just started laughing to myself randomly in class because I was thinking of what a ridiculous idea for an AU this was, and I can't believe that I'm loving writing it. And I can't believe other people are interested in it! I'm so glad!)


	9. Freudian Slip?

**A/N**: Thanks again for the reviews, everybody! It's so encouraging. On a side note, to anyone reading my Bones/R&I crossover, I apologize for being lame and not updating that one. I'm desperately trying to overcome some writer's block! With this story, I don't know; it's easier, at least for now. Probably because I have a better idea of where it's going, haha. Anywho, in regards to my poll, **Giovanni** was overwhelmingly in first place for a guest appearance, followed by **Constance**. So I guess I'd better make those happen at some point. Until then, happy reading!

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><p>After their impromptu archery-and-pistol exhibition, the women returned to Maura's bedroom so Maura could put away her equipment and Jane could retrieve her boots and burgundy. "Sorry your timing was lousy," Jane said, stiffly putting the boots under one of her arms. "I mean with Dr. Byron being out of town and all. You oughtta be getting familiar with his place, and he's closed shop for a few days. So I suppose that means if anyone gets in trouble around here, they're only gonna have <em>you <em>to turn to for help."

"Mercy me, I'll try to do the best I can," Maura said with something that would have to pass for a smirk. "How's your nose?"

"Feels fine," Jane said with a shrug. "Really," she added quickly, taking a step back when Maura showed signs of wanting to touch it again. "I'm okay."

"How do you fare when you're traveling? From what I've heard, Jake Wyatt gets into a lot of scrapes. Can you just walk in to any country doctor's practice you please?"

"What've you heard?" Jane asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Pardon?"

"You said from what you've _heard_, I've gotten myself into a lot of scrapes. Who's been shooting his mouth off? Frost?"

"I've not spoken a word to Frost since you, let's see, told him to hold my driver at gunpoint until we made it to town," Maura said heavily. "I'm not ignorant, Jane. Anyone purposing to live the kind of life Jake Wyatt does is asking for trouble. And besides, I took the liberty of asking Melody what she knew about you, and some other patrons of this establishment couldn't help but pitch in."

Jane wanted to fold her arms in curiosity, but couldn't because of the boots. She settled for sticking one hand in her pocket and raising an eyebrow at Maura. "What'd they say about me?"

Judging by her tone, Jane wasn't upset that Maura had been snooping; she was just genuinely curious. Still, Maura didn't feel comfortable looking her in the eye, so she walked over to the corner of the room that held Bass' crate. "I wonder if tortoises require blankets," she said, picking up the small instructional pamphlet that the animal's namesake had left.

"C'mon, Maura, what'd they say about me?" Jane begged, smiling against her will.

Chancing a glance over at Jane, Maura returned the grin but then quickly picked up the booklet on tortoises, pretending to be engaged with it so she could avoid Jane's eye. "They said you have quite a reputation, a nasty temper, and a fondness for alcohol."

"Well, I guess those are all true," Jane sighed.

"And one of them said you'd insured your horse for five hundred dollars."

"Insured a horse? I don't even know what that means."

"And that you went with Commodore Perry to Japan to open up the Eastern markets for trade, even though that was fifty years ago."

"Wait, Commodore Who?"

"And that Billy the Kid thinks you're a rogue."

Jane snorted. "Billy the Kid would think _Bass _is a rogue."

"And also that you are wary of making attachments to people, up to and including women, which is how you've gained quite a bit of notoriety for being what they call a heartbreaker," Maura suddenly heard herself saying. Once the words had escaped her and there was no hope of calling them back, she brought the book closer to her face, under the guise of more closely studying a diagram on tortoise anatomy. She jumped when she felt the mattress beneath her bend slightly with more weight; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane was sitting about a foot away from her.

Putting the boots back down on the floor, Jane said, "How much of all that did you believe, Maura?"

Sighing softly, Maura finally put the book down, now staring at the same indiscriminate spot on the floor as Jane. "I'm not sure. You've clearly already established Jake as some sort of legend—regarding people like you, like him, typically tall tales don't abound this frequently until you've been long dead. But it seems you're intentionally leaving people in confusion. It seems that men are frightened of you and women are—well, women are either intimidated by or smitten with you!"

Jane inhaled sharply, and when she released the breath again, it came out as a shaky laugh. "Maura, I know it ain't funny, but… well, you understand, don'tcha?"

"Understand what?" Maura asked breathlessly, not liking the feelings that were coursing through her with Jane sitting next to her on her bed.

"Women like to tell lies," Jane said, her voice little more than a hiss. "I know, ladies like you probably think that's a man's game, but if it'll get her some attention, no woman's above twistin' the truth. You're right, I _do _scare men, and I take pride in it. A man can feel proud of himself if he's said he's survived a fight with Jake Wyatt, or fired a bullet at him. Women need to find a way to be included in that attention, right? So they make out I'm some sort of a great lover. There ain't a way to prove it, they've just got to make up the best stories they can. Of course, what always happens is Jake leaves in the middle of the night, or early in the morning before she can wake up to stop him." She snorted a laugh. "And there ya have it. Heartbreaker."

After a long pause (during which Maura realized her heart was beating at a slightly irregular rate), Maura said, "So then… you haven't ever …I mean, when you've been dressed as Jake, you haven't ever… actually..." She pursed her lips, not wanting to have to say it, because she wasn't even entirely sure what she would ask.

But Jane seemed to get the message. Her eyes widened slightly and she stood up off the bed, running a hand through her hair. "No, Maura, God! Of course not! I'm a—why would I do that?"

"To solidify your reputation," Maura said defensively. "The same way I'm sure you've shot men to get a point across!"

"I've shot men to protect myself," Jane clarified. "I ain't ever led a woman on. They take a liking to me? Their mistake. I don't never encourage 'em, what d'you take me for?" She was trembling all over at the recollection—not only of Marianne, but of the countless other women over the years who had tried to solicit her attention. Surely those weren't stories Dr. Isles would like to hear. "Maura," she said after another deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I hope you don't think I'd ever—try and… I dunno, take advantage of a situation like that. It's even better for my image that I don't let women touch me. You take that away, and their stories just get wilder and wilder. Gotta make up for the fact that they don't know what I'd do."

"Oh," Maura said softly, rubbing her arm.

"People gotta think I'm the scum of the earth."

"But you're not," Maura whispered, furrowing her brow and catching Jane's eye.

"As far as anybody's concerned, Jake Wyatt is. He's a scoundrel."

"Yes, but _you_…Jane, _you're_ not," Maura said, a slight pleading tone in her voice.

Jane stopped pacing and stood in front of Maura, wondering dimly how they had gotten so connected after just a day and a half. "No," she finally said quietly. "I'm not. Try not to be, anyway."

Trying to smile, Maura said, "Good. That's all I wanted to know, Jane."

"Well…I mean, that depends on who you talk to, I guess," Jane snickered. "I'm sure most of the time, Korsak and Angela wish they could team up and take me out. I ain't always the easiest person to get along with."

"Oh, I don't know," Maura said lightly, pleased that the atmosphere didn't seem as heavy anymore. "I've found my time with you to be quite pleasurable."

"Yes, well…consider the fact that you ain't known me two full days yet," Jane pointed out, leaning against the window.

"I suppose that's true," Maura conceded. "And I suppose people might find you to be a _scoundrel _in your own way. You're quite the dramatist, aren't you, Jane? Masquerading all the time, having things your way… you're like Jo March, come to life!"

"Who?"

"Jo March," Maura said, and she gasped softly at Jane's blank expression. She got up off the bed and walked over to her desk, pulling a book out of the top drawer. "From _Little Women_; it's been my favorite novel ever since it was published when I was a girl! Oh, you must read it, Jane, please!"

"No," Jane said stiffly, not reaching out when Maura tried to hand the book to her.

"Please, Jane, you'll love it!"

"No, Maura, I can't—"

"I don't care when you give it back, take your time with it—"

"Maura, no! I can't _read!_" she finally blurted, her arms raising in an exaggerated, frustrated manner. She folded them resolutely again when Maura stared back at her, looking as though this was the most depressing piece of information she had ever heard. Jane sighed at the feeling of her pride collapsing so quickly, although she wondered how long she could have kept a secret like this from Maura anyway. "I can a little," she mumbled. "But not much. Sure can't read good enough to get through a book that big."

"Well," Maura said quietly, automatically.

"What?"

Maura fidgeted, knowing it had been rude to correct Jane after she had admitted something that so clearly embarrassed her. "Read _well_," she said, hoping maybe it would help. "Not good."

"You know, I don't think I like it when you correct me," Jane said wryly, and the smirk on her face calmed Maura down a bit. "So tell me about her, then, this Jo March person. Would I like her enough to pretend we named my dog after her?"

"Oh yes, you would," Maura said eagerly, sitting down on her bed again with the book in her lap. "Jo is a free spirit. She acts on her own terms, and expresses herself however she feels, and because of the expectations society has for women, she frequently laments that she wasn't born a man."

"Laments? What's that mean?"

"She—it means she _wishes _she'd been born a man," Maura explained. She paused here, wondering if Jane was going to say something along the lines of "_I_ don't," but the lanky brunette continued to just stand there against the window, waiting for Maura to continue. "Jo's fiercely loyal to her family and always wishes she could do more to help people, often going above and beyond the call of duty."

When it seemed that Maura was done, Jane smiled and nodded. "All right, I think I like her. Jo March Friday it is."

Maura beamed. "Lovely!"

"Gosh, Maura," Jane said, gripping the sill tightly behind her. "It's no wonder Mr. Fairfield took an interest in you. You're a mighty fascinating person. You ride horses and you know about medicine, and athletics, and literature—and painting, I'm sure, considering your mother. I hope he appreciates what he's got, that Mr. Fairfield."

"Oh, he does," Maura said with a smile, guilelessly adding in an unintentionally provocative voice, "He lets me know he does."

"Maura!"

"What?"

"I'm surprised at you! Surprised and a little impressed."

"At—what?"

Narrowing her eyes, Jane said, "Just exactly _how _does Mr. Fairfield let his appreciation be known?"

"With flowers, or a kind note."

"Oh." _Of course_.

Looking slightly appalled, Maura said, "Good heavens, what did you _think_ I meant?"

"Mmm, something a little more worldly."

"My word, Jane, you ought to know better than that!" Maura gasped. "Garrett has only ever kissed my hands, and even then, only when I've been wearing gloves!"

Eying her suspiciously, Jane said, "Are you telling me you are engaged to be married to this man, and you ain't ever so much as kissed him?"

"Of course," Maura said, still looking nothing short of scandalized at the suggestion that she might have done anything else. When Jane continued to stare in disbelief, Maura straightened and asked, "Why, have _you _ever kissed a man?" _That's probably a dumb_ _question_, she thought immediately afterwards.

Indeed, Jane's casual response was to shrug and say, "Of course. More than one." She had to laugh at Maura's shocked countenance, finding it hilarious that of all the things she had told her this afternoon, this was the one that warranted such an expression. "Not everyone can be as innocent as you, Dr. Isles."

"Don't condescend to me," Maura said, getting defensive.

Jane held her hands up in mock defeat. "I don't mean to insult you, Maura. Just don't be surprised that other people are experienced in these matters. I ain't ever done more than kiss, though, and that ain't a lie, I swear." She snorted again, scratching the back of her neck. "Boy, oh, kissin' was enough."

Silence loomed between them, but it wasn't awkward or dark—just thoughtful. Maura was torn between her still-fresh surprise and wanting to ask Jane more. Would it be improper to ask her what it had felt like? What did it entail, how long did a kiss last, and how did one man differ from another? Suddenly she was dying to know all of this and more, but she couldn't bring herself to descend to the impropriety of bringing it up herself. Fortunately for her, Jane could. Seeing that Maura was biting something back, Jane decided to throw forward her best guess to what the doctor was thinking and elaborate:

"It was…disappointing. All of them. I gotta be honest, Maura, it's the only time I've ever felt as if… as if I wasn't feelin' like I was s'posed to. You know—from stories I'd heard, and shows I saw, I thought it would be more, uh…" She shrugged. "Just _more_, I guess." Noting that Maura looked a tad distressed by this, Jane hurried to add, "But that don't mean it'll be that way for you and Mr. Fairfield! You'll probably love it."

"You think I'll love kissing?" Maura asked, amused for some reason.

"Well, sure. You're…you know, I think—you look good to kiss." At this, Maura raised her eyebrows in surprised alarm, not anger, at the exact moment that Jane registered what she had just said. "Oh—er—I meant, um…"

This was usually where Maura might have stepped in with an "oh, that's all right," or some other variation of "I understand," but she didn't, for two reasons: one, she did _not _understand, and two, she wanted to. Or at least, she wanted Jane to explain. She had certainly never imagined that she might see Jane so flustered, and it was entertaining to watch her trying to salvage her quickly-crumbling façade of calm control.

"What I meant," Jane said slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly, "was that you look …like …the kind of woman who would enjoy bein' kissed."

"That's not what you said," Maura couldn't help teasing her.

"I know," Jane growled, "but it's what I _meant_."

"So…you think I look loose?" Maura asked, enjoying the effect it had on Jane to get a taste of her own medicine.

"No," Jane said, unable to tell in her self-inflicted state of torment that Maura was joking. "I think there are… different kinds of women—women who, uh, like to paint, or sing, or ride horses. There are women, and females, and… ladies, like you. Ladies like to be kissed."

"We do?" Maura asked, folding her hands demurely in her lap. "And do we enjoy doing anything else?" Her tone was jocular, but she had a disconcertingly hard look in her eyes. It made Jane's heart jump like the first time she'd fallen off a horse.

"Well it's…it's not all _you_ do, no," Jane mumbled, scuffing the toe of her boot on the hardwood floor. "Just one of them. Or it will be, anyway."

"And women like you—you don't like to be kissed?"

"Not generally, no," Jane said with the shadow of a smirk. "We like to be the ones _doing _the kissing."

"The difference between passively being acted upon, and taking the action?" Maura asked.

Jane looked at her uncertainly. "Er…I guess so. What's 'passively' mean?" She instantly regretted letting the question escape her, hating to add yet another example of her ignorance to the generous load she had already displayed today to a woman as intelligent as Dr. Isles.

But Maura didn't lord it over her, and merely defined the word. "If you are passive, it means you just let things happen to you. You don't start things or engage with them; you just sort of let them hit you. No action on your part."

"None?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows, and Maura nodded lightly. "Well. I'm a lot of things, Maura, but 'passive' sure ain't one of 'em."

"I gathered that," Maura laughed. "Generally speaking, I'm not, either. Particularly compared to the ladies back in Boston."

With a wry smile, Jane said, "Yeah, I could imagine that."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, which Maura quickly went to answer. "Melody, hello!"

Melody looked around Maura, and appeared relieved to see Jane leaning on the windowsill. "Oh, Dr. Isles! You'd better come downstairs, quick. Mr. Fairfield's here."

"He is? That's earlier than I was expecting, I must say. Would you like to come with me, Jane? You could meet him for yourself!"

Jane wasn't so sure that was a great idea, but seeing as her other option would be staying behind in this room alone, she said, "Sure." Before following Maura and Melody out the door, she stooped to once again pick up the boots and the burgundy, careful not to drop either as she traveled down the stairs.

Garrett was standing near the door to the porch, fanning himself with his hat and looking a bit disgruntled. When the three women finally appeared, he stared at Jane, slightly dumbfounded by her appearance. He quickly composed himself, nodding at Melody and taking Maura's hand between his own.

"Dear, I wasn't expecting you so soon!" Maura said.

"My last appointment had to cancel," Garrett told her. "Something came up. So I figured I'd come by for you, and show you the house. And…" He glanced at Jane, who had just finished sizing him up. _This guy's one handsome devil_. "I…hope you'll both forgive me," Garrett said, "but I came by the boarding house and saw Maura's window, and I saw—well, I guess I saw you!" he laughed, gesturing to Jane and by extension, her apparel. "I thought you were…"

When Maura got it, she said, "Oh, Garrett! How could you even imagine I might have a man in my room?"

"Well, that's what didn't make sense to me," Garrett said. "But I only saw her from the back, and, well… those _are _somewhat masculine clothes, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes," Jane sighed. "Yes, I would."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Maura laughed. "Garrett, this is the woman I was telling you about—Jane. Jane, this is my fiancée, Garrett Fairfield."

"Pleasure to meet you," Garrett said, holding out his hand before he realized Jane didn't have one to spare.

"Likewise," Jane said, trying unsuccessfully to shift either her boots or the bottle of burgundy to free up one of her hands. "I've, uh, heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Certainly, Mr. Fairfield. Everybody says you're quite a brilliant fellow."

"That he is," Maura said proudly, grinning up at him.

"You know Angela? Runs a… place on the other side of town?" Jane asked.

"Yes, I do. She's quite a character, isn't she?"

"Isn't she…yes. She spoke highly of you. And Maura has, of course."

"Well, I hope to live up to my reputation, then. Maura tells me the Sheriff thinks highly of _you_, Jane."

"Ah, I'm a pain in his rear end," Jane chuckled. "Anyhow, don't let me keep ya." She looked at Maura and said, "I'd better go stop by Angela's. Korsak said she's worried I skipped town again, like I would leave here without Frost. Or Jo," she added, heading out the door.

"Goodbye," Garrett and Maura said together. Jane turned at the sound of their voices, her gaze dropping briefly to their interlocked arms. Standing there on the porch of the boarding house, they looked too good to be true. He was tall and dashing, cutting an impressive figure in a finely tailored suit, with a smile that would have made any dentist cry "witchcraft!" And then of course there was Maura, appearing in all of her pure loveliness as though she had walked out of a painting. As the two of them privately conversed, walking in the opposite direction Jane had started, she couldn't hold in a sigh. They looked so happy, so normal, so beautiful. Jane felt as though she would never be rid of the ugly, angry raincloud that seemed to persistently hover over her, preventing her from ever being able to lead a halfway normal life.

Garrett glanced over his shoulder at Jane's retreating figure, and squeezed Maura's hand a little more tightly. "Was that a bottle of alcohol in her hand?" he asked.

"Yes. She'd brought it by earlier and was just picking it up. Don't worry, I let her know I would never be imbibing."

He nodded to himself. "Did she drink it in front of you?"

"No." She knew this was the answer he had wanted to hear, and so refrained from adding that Jane _had _drunken alcohol freely in front of her at Angela's saloon. "She's quite a dear, Garrett, really. She's already done so much for me."

"Yes…well, now that I know you're settled, you'll have me to rely on much more," Garrett said. "I'm already hoping to take more time off to spend with you."

"Is that wise?" Maura asked. "I mean—oh, it'll be wonderful to be with you more often, Garrett, but it'll cut into your working time, which will cut into your finances. Oh, don't misunderstand me, darling, but—_you're _the one who said you wanted to wait to be married until you felt more financially secure. The more you work, the more money you'll make, and the sooner we can be married!"

"Yes, dear, you bring up a good point," Garrett said. "But it wouldn't make a difference. You see, when I secured that place for you at Melody's boarding house, she drove a hard bargain! She insisted that she never leased a room for less than six months, and the contract is binding. As I've paid for it already, it would be a horrendous waste of money for you to move out before then."

"Six months!" Maura cried, pulling her arm out of Garrett's so she could turn to stare at him. "That's—that's half a year, Garrett!"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he said, calmly reaching for one of her hands, and she did not pull away. "It's less than ideal, but it's the best I could do. You wanted to come and join me out here, and I admit rather selfishly that I wanted you here, too. Isn't it better that we live in the same town for this period of time, rather than have you all the way back in Boston? At least now we can be together in _some_ sense, right?" He tucked a finger under Maura's chin and gently prodded her to look up at him. "Come on, my girl. We're in this together, aren't we?"

After a defeated sigh, Maura said, "Yes, yes we are. A metaphorical bump in the road shouldn't diminish the value of our ultimate end goal."

"Exactly."

Around this time, Jane walked into Angela's bar and was met with a simultaneous bark from her puppy and a wet towel being thrown at her head. By ducking to put down her boots and pick up Jo, she also managed to avoid the towel, which hit the wall behind her with a loud smack. "Someone's in a foul mood, aren't they, girl?" she asked Jo.

Angela came storming around the bar, throwing Jane a dark look as she picked up the towel. "Jane, I don't know where to start with you, I really don't!"

"The very beginning?" suggested Frost, who was sitting at the stool nearest them.

"Shut up, Frost," Jane said, taking the seat next to him.

"First of all, leaving that dress on my rail without leaving word with anyone to say you were still here!" Angela cried. "I thought you'd left town without saying goodbye! And before you try and lie to me Jane, don't pretend it hasn't happened before!"

"But never after just one night," Jane said quietly, shrinking back a bit. Angela was one of the only people who ever really made her nervous.

"_And then!_" Angela continued. "You left Deputy Grant all alone without the burgundy OR those flowers after spending less than five minutes in his company! What is wrong with you, Jane? Can't you just—"

"No, I can't just!" Jane cut in. "Ma, you know Grant makes me crazy, that much hasn't changed about me, not even in five years! Do I gotta spell it out for ya in my letters?"

"I got it," said Frost, who wrote all of Jane's letters as she dictated them to him. "From now on, we can add a post script at the bottom of each one: 'p.s. I still hate Grant.'"

"Good idea," Jane laughed.

"You two," Angela grumbled, walking back around the bar to get somebody's order of whiskey.

"You can at least be glad to know the flowers didn't go to waste," Jane said, setting the burgundy on the bar. "I gave them to Dr. Isles."

"Oh, really?" Angela asked, all traces of annoyance mysteriously gone. "Well that's nice. She seemed like such a sweet lady, and I'm sure she appreciated the gesture, being new in town and all."

"See? Am I so terrible?" Jane asked.

"I hope she rubs off on you. It'd do you good to spend more time with a lady like Dr. Isles, Jane," Angela said seriously.

Jane laughed as Jo reached up to lick her face. "I suppose I could stand that."


	10. Crazy Cross Dressing Crooks

By 3:00 that afternoon, Garrett had given Maura a very detailed tour of his (to be their future) home, introduced her to the neighbors, and shown her the quickest and safest way to get back into town. The house was located on a very genteel-looking street, surrounded by homes owned by only the most reputable families in Hollow Creek—the lawyer, banker, priest, and Dr. Byron all living there. Were it not for the dusty streets and occasional cactus dotting the landscape, Maura might have thought she were back in Boston: the architecture of the homes certainly leant themselves to more of an East Coast aesthetic. It made her feel much more at home, and she admired the interior of Garrett's house as well, having made a thorough investigation of every corner (except of course for his bedroom, which he had merely gestured to, feeling it would be indecent to take Maura inside).

But work called again, and Garrett brought Maura back into town, dropping her back off at the boarding house. After checking on Bass and leaving him some leafy cabbage she had taken with permission from Melody's garden, Maura decided to go back to Angela's saloon. Polite though Garrett's neighbors had been, Maura didn't feel comfortable enough around any of them to consider them friends, and she wanted to spend time with friends right now. She realized that the only way to _make _Garrett's neighbors her friends would be to actually stay and get to know them, but she was tired and didn't feel like putting forth the energy that would require.

When she reached the saloon, it was to see Jane asleep on a chair on the porch, her feet up on the railing. Her hat was upside-down in her lap, and Jo was curled in up in a ball inside it. Maura had assumed the dog was asleep as well, but when she took a few steps closer, Jo perked up immediately and started yapping in excitement. The sound startled Jane out of her light slumber, and for a moment, she was wildly disoriented. She saw Maura standing close in front of her, the sun providing a backlight so intense that the woman's features were nearly in shadow, her sunlit hair glowing like a halo.

_Am I dreaming?_

"Hello, Jane," Maura said, smiling but looking hesitant. Jo jumped off of Jane's lap and started running circle around Maura. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Rubbing her eyes, Jane said, "No, no, you didn't disturb me. Just kinda dozed off out here, I guess. The sun feels real good, and it felt nice to relax." Maura got the impression that Jane didn't get much time to relax, making her feel all the more guilty, but Jane assuaged her concerns by stretching and getting to her feet. "What've you been up to?"

Before Maura could respond, the doors to the saloon swung open, admitting Tommy and Angela. "Oh, Dr. Isles!" Angela gasped. "Thank goodness—could you help?"

Tommy's lip was bleeding badly and appeared split. He looked as if he was trying to yank himself out of Angela's grip, insisting he didn't need help, but Maura told him to stay where he was and she'd be right back. As she hurriedly returned to the boarding house, Angela let go of Tommy's collar and shoved him in Jane's direction before turning and going back inside—"I don't know what to do with him sometimes, Janie; _you _talk to him! He'll listen to you!"

"What happened, Tommy?" Jane sighed once Angela had left.

"Nothin' happened!"

"Really? Your lip just got cut on account of nothin'?"

"Got in a scrape, it's not a problem!"

"It's a problem when they happen in Ma's saloon! Ain't she been good to you, Tommy? Don't she deserve a little bit more respect from you? Frankie tells me you're fashioning yourself a big man. You feel like you gotta settle somethin', fine, but take it outside. Ma's got enough to worry about without you gettin' into trouble and into fights right under her nose all the time!"

"Who the hell d'you think you are to be givin'_ me_ a lecture on how to act with Ma?" Tommy nearly shouted. "Runnin' off all the time with Frost, leaving for years, doin' God knows what, and only coming back when you feel like it! Do you know how much you're breakin' her heart, Jane?"

"It's different, Tommy, I don't go lookin' for trouble when Ma's hanging over me—"

He made a wide, dismissive gesture with his arms. "Of course not! You only go all over the country lookin' for it someplace else! You don't gotta be here when Ma's cryin' her eyes out over you, wonderin' what the hell she did wrong to make you wanna leave! How does that make you feel, huh, Jane? You proud? You happy?"

"Tommy, you better shut the hell up before I give you somethin' worse than that split lip!"

"You wanna know how I got this? You wanna know how I got it, Jane? I was stickin' up for you. Some bum in there was makin' out you and Frost was in some kind of unnatural relationship," he said, his lip curling at the thought. "Frost was already gone, he went to talk to Korsak about something, but otherwise I hoped he'd have had the decency to do what I done and punch the livin' daylights outta him!" He winced; the aggravated use of his mouth was hurting his lip, and the pain distracted him from noticing the slightly dazed look on his sister's face. "I told him you might not be like other women, but that didn't mean you'd ever do something …like that with Frost. I mean, you wouldn't, would ya?"

"No," Jane said shortly. "Frost's my pal. He and I treat each other just the way we'd like to be treated." She shrugged. "Equals. You know."

"You know it's against the law," Tommy said. "If Frost ever kissed you."

Jane snorted a laugh. "Frost won't ever kiss me, Tommy. But if he does, I ain't gonna come crying to you. I don't know why you got it into your head you had to fight these battles on my account, but don't ever do it again. I can take care of things like this myself."

"Sure," Tommy said wryly. "Now that you're around."

"What've you been doing, Tommy? Frankie's worried about ya."

"I ain't been doin' nothin'!" Tommy insisted. "Just fights, you know. A man's gotta stand up for himself and his family, don't he? Well, that's all I been doin'! I don't ever start nothin', I just finish 'em. You know, like Jake Wyatt!"

"What d'you know about Jake Wyatt?" Jane spat.

Tommy's tone was a little more reverent than Jane would've liked when he answered: "He don't take nothin' from nobody, I know that much. Someone double-crosses him, and he makes 'em pay, just like he should! Now that's a _real_ man, not like Frankie. If Frankie had his way, we wouldn't ever even fight with nobody. It's all talk, and don't nobody get anywhere with talk, Jane."

"You been listening to fairy tales, little brother," Jane said quietly. "And you're makin' Jake Wyatt out to be more noble than he is. He's a dirty criminal, Tommy. Not worth your time or attention."

"What d'you know, Jane? You ever met him?"

"Jake Wyatt?"

"Yeah!"

"Don't have to. I know his kind."

Tommy waved a hand dismissively. "You don't know nothin'."

"You show more respect for your older sister, Tommy." When this got nothing but an indifferent shrug out of her brother, Jane said, "Boy, you've changed."

"Well, it's been a long time. You ain't been here to see what goes on."

Maura returned just then, and it wasn't a moment too soon for Jane. She was carrying a small box with a silver handle in one hand, and a cucumber in the other. It was perhaps fortunate that Maura had no idea what sort of conversation she had just interrupted, and as she didn't sense any awkwardness, she merely instructed Tommy to sit down on the chair Jane had recently vacated. He did so without any argument, and Maura wordlessly handed the cucumber to Jane before setting her box precariously on the porch railing and opening it. With an expression of utmost seriousness, Maura pulled out a tiny bristle brush made of animal bone and hog hair.

"Good, you gonna clean his teeth?" Jane asked. "His breath smells somethin' awful."

"Not quite," Maura said, leaning closer to Tommy's face. "Although you're right, that breath _is _rather malodorous. No; this is to remove any dead skin cells that might still be on his lips. They'll only cause more drying and flaking, which is sure to chafe." As she spoke, she gingerly brushed Tommy's lips, and didn't notice that as she did so, he gripped the arms of the chair more tightly, trying not to breathe too hard on Maura. "You'll also want to make sure you're drinking plenty of water, Tommy. Otherwise, you'll be opening your lips to more irritation, and it's certain not to help. Incidentally, how exactly did this happen?"

Shooting Jane a grimace, Tommy said, "I was defending Jane's honor." She made a face back at him.

Maura pulled back, carefully sticking the brush back into its place in the box and pulling out a small sack. "Oh. I was under the impression that if Jane had any honor to begin with, she would be up to the challenge of defending it herself."

"Ha!" Jane said. "…wait."

"Our family ain't particularly honorable, Dr. Isles," Tommy said. "Er—what's in that bag?"

"Witch hazel," she said shortly. "I'm going to apply some to your lip. It should help soothe the pain. And you shouldn't speak for a while afterwards, so you might as well tell me now where the man is who was assaulting your sister's honor."

"Ah, he ran off already. I'd've been gone too if Ma hadn't stopped me."

"Oh, dear," Maura sighed. She leaned in again to rub some of the witch hazel against Tommy's lip, so concentrated on her work that she missed entirely the darkness in his eyes and dilation of his pupils.

"Uh…what exactly did ya want me to do with this?" Jane asked, waving the cucumber to get Maura's attention.

Sparing a glance for Jane, Maura said, "I'll cut off a slice of it, and then Tommy, you should hold it to your lip for a while. I'm not sure why exactly this is, but it will help heal the split sooner. And then you should eat the rest of it—cool foods will cool your body, which is imperative because an overheated internal body temperature can lead to greater irritation of mouth sores and split lips. And ulcers, although as far as I know, you haven't complained of any stomach ailments yet. Try and stay away from hot foods for a while, all right?"

She straightened up and held out her hand for the cucumber, which Jane happily handed over. "Now, you hear that Tommy?" she said, as Maura laid out a cloth on the railing. "The doctor said no talking, and no moving until you've finished this whole vegetable here." She chuckled as Maura took a small knife out of her box and made a very precise cut down the middle of the cucumber, then slicing out a nicely-sized wedge. "Say, what're those things called again, anyway?"

"It's a cucumber," Maura replied, handing the slice to Tommy and putting the two bigger pieces in his other hand. "Melody was gracious enough to give it to me."

All three of them looked up when two men walked by and whistled. One of them said, "Ooh, doctor, I've got a pain! Come take a closer look?"

Tommy made to get up, but with surprising strength, Maura pushed his shoulder down to keep him in the chair. Jane, however, acted on instinct and Maura was too far away to stop her. She pulled her gun from its holster, not even blinking as she fired four bullets near the man's feet, forcing him into an awkward sort of dance as he desperately tried to avoid being hit. The sounds of the gunfire seemed to have frightened Maura more than the man's suggestive comment, and when he and his friend scampered off, she gave Jane an incredulous look.

"Jane! Was that called for?"

"Yes. Men in this town can't be permitted to say such crude things to a lady like you, Dr. Isles, and you're too prim to reproach 'em yourself." Casually holstering the gun, Jane smirked at Tommy and said, "You'll notice I didn't get a split lip."

"That's still barbaric," Maura said.

"Well, Maura, you have your opinion, I have mine. This ain't Boston. New land, new rules apply. Anyhow, I got a proposition for ya."

"And what's that?" Maura asked, still shaken by Jane's extreme course of action but unable to get rid of the small inkling of contentment she felt at Jane's defense of her honor.

"Tomorrow's Sunday, ain't it? And I was thinking you'd most likely be in need of somethin' to do with Mr. Fairfield after church was over, and all the businesses will be closed. I think it'd be a good time to break in your new horse. I can take ya back to the corral if you'd like."

"Thank you, Jane, I would appreciate that," Maura said, packing up her box. "So long as you promise not to shoot at anyone else in my presence."

"You have my word."

Satisfied with this response, Maura bid Tommy farewell and followed Jane back down the street. They stopped at the boarding house for Maura to drop off her medical box (where Jane was instructed to wait outside, as Jo with her) before setting off for the sheriff's office. There, they were met by Korsak, Frost, and Grant, who looked a tad miffed when Jane waltzed inside.

"Afternoon, deputy!" she said cheerfully, refusing to even come close to acknowledging their awkward encounter from the previous night. "Frost, Korsak."

"Afternoon, ladies," Korsak said. "What brings you around here?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow your coach," Jane said. "Maura and I thought we'd go collect her horse from the corral."

"Ah, yes," Korsak laughed. "If I remember correctly, old Wind Whistler gave you the least trouble about your English saddle, right Dr. Isles? The saddle's in the barn," he explained to Jane. "Only… I think Wind Whistler's due for some new shoes."

"Okay. We'll take her by Trevor's, then."

"Trevor ain't lived here in three years," Grant said.

"Oh. Well then who's your blacksmith?"

"Fella by the name of Crowe, and he skipped town yesterday, outta nowhere!" Grant said, completely ignorant of the sheepish look on Jane's face as Korsak and Frost both shook their heads at her. "Crowe was a handy fellow to have around in a bad spot; he could do pretty much anything you asked. Fortunately, someone in town's got a blacksmith for a relative who's on his way to the Creek. Wants to fix up a home here."

"In the meantime," Korsak said, "Your only option would be to go to Green Forge. Gilberti and his son moved there last summer."

"Gilberti? No chance in hell," Jane said flatly.

"Don't be so stubborn," Frost laughed.

"Gilberti? Is he Italian?" Maura chirped. "Oh, I'd love to get a chance to practice some of my Italian! I haven't had the opportunity to practice in years, but it would be fun to try it!"

"See? She likes Italians," Frost said, winking at Jane.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. I will take you there, Maura. Just don't say I didn't warn ya."

Maura wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but judging by the amused looks on Frost and Korsak's faces, she wasn't too worried. Or she wasn't until Grant said, "What is it, Jane, a personal grudge? You need me to come along?"

"I think I'll be fine, Joseph. But thank you," Jane said sweetly. "Hey Korsak, mind if I leave Jo here? I'm not sure if she'd be up for a long buggy ride yet."

Frost had already scooped up the dog into his arms, keeping a tight grip on her as she squirmed to get back to Jane. "That's okay, we're good friends, aren't we girl?"

"Thanks, fellas." Jane led Maura back outside to where Korsak's coach was parked behind the building. Jane helped Maura on top of it before clambering up herself, grabbing the reins and setting them off at a nice trot. "Say, doc, you're gonna come in pretty handy. That was nice of you, fixing up Tommy's face like that."

"Well, that's what I'm here for."

"I thought you were here to marry Mr. Fairfield."

"Well I—I mean until I marry him."

"You going to stop workin' once you do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Possibly not until we have a family."

"You want kids, huh?"

"Oh, yes! I couldn't imagine anything more wonderful. Wouldn't you like children someday, Jane?"

She appeared to give it at least a little thought before answering: "No Maura, I don't think I would."

"Why not?"

"I seen too many families torn apart, including my own. I reckon the world's a dangerous place, and it ain't always as happy as it ought to be. I wouldn't be no good as a parent, and I sure as hell don't wanna bring any kids into the kinda world I always seem to get pulled into. Besides …it'd hurt too much, wouldn't it?"

"Giving birth?"

"The chance that your kids might get taken, or get hurt, or be killed." Jane shook her head. "No, Maura. There could be too much pain involved. I ain't ever gettin' married or having kids."

"You really think that'll protect you?" Maura asked softly.

Jane looked over at her, surveying Maura's expression. Slowly she allowed herself a crooked smile before turning back to the road. "No."

They had arrived at the corral, and when Maura made to get down, Jane said, "Nah, you sit tight, I'll be just a minute." She pulled Korsak's old horse out of the straps keeping it tied to the coach, then led it over to the other horses, where it looked happy only to see a large trough. Jane then headed over to the barn and re-emerged holding Maura's saddle in one hand and a piece of luggage under the other arm. With a grunt, she tossed both into the open back of the coach before going back for Maura's horse. Wind Whistler had been named for her sleek silver body, dappled with dark gray spots on her hindquarters and legs. Watching Jane's brief interaction with the beast—inspecting one of its hooves, leading it to the coach, and strapping it up—Maura gained a true appreciation for the truth in Jane's words when she had said she got along better with animals than she did with humans.

And then they set off, going the opposite direction of Mesa, therefore bringing Maura into yet another new territory. The road was mostly barren and Jane said not to expect many other travelers to pass their way: "Green Forge is the end of the line for most people, unless they're headin' down to Mesa. Korsak's always said that someday he'd like to clean up this road, get more bodies down to Hollow Creek. It's a right nice town, you know, just smaller than others."

"How far is Green Forge?"

"Oh, about fifteen miles, I guess."

"What's in this suitcase you brought?"

"Change of clothes."

"What for?"

"You'll see," Jane said darkly. With one hand still holding on to the reins, she reached back blindly with the other, grabbing the suitcase by the handle and pulling it forward to rest between her and Maura. The road was wide and open and there was nobody else on it anywhere the eye could see. With the air of one who had done this many times before, Jane put the reins between her teeth and started undoing the buttons of her shirt.

"What—what're you doing?" Maura gasped.

"Taking this shirt off," Jane said, though the heavy leather in her mouth garbled her speech somewhat. With a glance it was clear that Maura hadn't understood a word, so Jane impatiently pulled the reins back out. "I'm taking this shirt off."

"What on earth for?"

"I told ya, you'll see. Besides, I've sweat right through this one."

"You're going to undress and drive?"

"Yes..."

"For heaven's sake, that isn't safe!"

Jane just shrugged and said, "I done it before. Don't look if it makes ya squeamish."

Maura closed her eyes and turned away, already having been distracted enough by the sight of Jane's mostly-undone shirt. She was resolved to keep her eyes shut until Jane was completely done with whatever it was she was doing, and Maura had to admit she was surprised that the coach felt as though it were in fairly steady control—no sudden stops or swerves. When Jane had told her it was fine to look again, Maura opened her eyes and her jaw dropped.

"Just—_how _many alternate identities do you _have?_"

"Oh, I wouldn't call this another identity," Jane laughed. She was wearing a very clean plaid shirt with a trim black vest over it and a rust-colored bandana tied around her neck. It certainly made her appear more polished, but the look wasn't complete without yet another set of fake facial hair. A dark mustache completely covered the skin between her nose and upper lip, much fuller than the one she donned as Jake Wyatt, and perhaps because of this, there was no matching goatee. She did however have sideburns that looked impressively natural, stemming out from the hair she had again tucked most of beneath her hat.

The mustache looked so hilarious on Jane that Maura nearly laughed, although she knew that were it not for her familiarity with the woman, she would most likely have been convinced by it. "Where did you say you got this array of facial hair?"

"Frost and I come across a fancy touring company from New York once," Jane said. "Stage stuff, you know. We nicked plenty of their beards and mustaches, but we didn't think of the sideburns until later. So we tracked them down, and we sort of held them up. I was dressed as Jake, I mean. I needed them to give me the most convincing pair they could come up with, and I think they done pretty good. Sometimes Jake's gotta be in disguise, too. And other times …well, other times I gotta go places where women ain't allowed, and I don't feel like havin' Jake make an appearance."

"So why does this person have to be at the blacksmith's?"

Jane frowned, shooting Maura a quick glance. "I just feel more comfortable that way."

"Why?"

"Because…Gilberti's son and I know each other."

"Really!"

"Yes. Don't sound so pleased, though. He was yet another fella Angela tried to get me interested in."

"Oh, dear."

"Oh dear indeed. Guy can't take no for an answer, y'know? He ain't too bright, but he's full of… _passion_, I guess you could say. Really a sweet-talker—I think that's the only reason Angela ever liked him. Well, and she liked Gilberti himself, I suppose. Too bad they moved away; I kinda thought they might get married at some point. Oh well."

"So…the disguise is here because you don't want his son to recognize you?"

"Exactly. I've had enough to deal with having Grant on my back."

"Well, considering the discomfort it's going to cause you, it was very kind of you to bring me here," Maura said quietly.

"Eh, I thought it'd be nice to get out of town. See? There it is!"

Green Forge was coming into view, and Maura could already tell that it was significantly larger than Hollow Creek in size and population. She could see the bustling movements indicative of a big and busy main street, and was very impressed by the size of some of the buildings.

"One thing, Maura," Jane said as they drove into town, keeping their eyes peeled for a blacksmith's shop. "Not that it'd come up, but if ya can avoid it, I'd say not to mention your engagement. Gilberti tends to give discounts to pretty women, and as you're a sight prettier than any woman come through our town, I reckon he might give your horse new shoes for free."

"Oh, you're a flatterer," Maura said with a light blush. "Er…what would you like me to call you when you're in this disguise?"

"Good question. I ain't sure."

"Hm…well, you do bear an odd resemblance to Garrett's uncle, now that I think about it."

That got a loud laugh out of Jane. "Well then! What's his name?"

"Charles Fairfield."

"All right then, call me Charles. Say, I think this is the place."

Jane pulled the coach to a stop outside what appeared to be a blacksmith's shop. She swiftly jumped down, then walked over to assist Maura. Once certain the doctor was steady on her feet, Jane led the way inside. Horses, anvils, and an assortment of tools were all present, but there seemed to be no sign of any people. "Hello?" Jane called out.

She jumped when a tall young man appeared suddenly from behind one of the horses. "Hello there to you, sir!"

As Jane had been dreading, this was indeed Giovanni, one of Gilberti's sons. "Your papa here, boy?"

"No sir, just me today," Giovanni said, though he was looking straight at Maura. "What can I do for you?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Sorry this chapter was more of a means to an end, but the next one should be up soon! If you'd like some western-related Rizzles entertainment while waiting for the next chapter, check out a video one of my friends did (for an assignment!) on youtube- search rizzoli & isles "people will say we're in love." Yes, as in that delightful song from the musical western _Oklahoma!_ It's really quite hilarious.

(on an entirely different note, how hot would it be to hear Angie Harmon say something in Italian on the show?)


	11. Impropriety

**A/N**: Just a couple of things- I noticed two comments have been coming up in the reviews a lot. A few of you have mentioned "Red Dead Redemption," which I have to say I had never actually heard of until y'all started bringing it up. If I were more video game literate, I would check it out! (Possibly ironic, considering my one non-RandI story on here is from a video game, but I digress). Secondly, I _love _that so many of you have mentioned how romantic you think it is that Rizzles can work in any time period, because that's how in love they are. So true! I never thought of it that way, but I love it. Kind of makes me want to start another AU. (Someday. Not now. Not that I already have it planned out in my head or anything.)

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><p>Jane instantly realized it had been a bad idea to bring Maura here. She did not at all appreciate the way that Giovanni appeared to be presumptuously sizing up the doctor—it was indecorous, and besides that, Maura was leagues above him.<p>

"You all from around here?" Giovanni asked, wearing a stupid grin.

"Not quite," Maura said, pleased by what she took to be just a happy attitude on his part. "We're from—"

"Boston," Jane cut in, shooting Maura a look. It had dawned on her that considering the way Giovanni was looking at Maura, telling him she actually just lived in the next town (his old playing grounds, no less) might not be a good idea. "We just rolled into town, actually. Looking for a change of scenery."

"You two siblings?" Giovanni asked in a would-be casual tone.

Jane shot him a glare. "No."

He nodded slowly, then extended his hand. "Well! I'm Giovanni Gilberti."

"Charles," was Jane's brusque response.

When Jane didn't take his hand, Giovanni looked down at his excessively dirty hand and pulled it back, smiling. "Ah, sorry! S'all covered in dirt, isn't it?"

"_I _don't mind a little dirt," Maura said, trying to be polite and extending her hand.

"Uh—our horse needs new shoes," Jane said, stepping in front of Maura before Giovanni could take her hand and presumably slobber all over it. She jerked her thumb in the direction of their coach outside. "She's run right through 'em."

The only thing that could have possibly distracted Giovanni from a beautiful woman was the opportunity to work with a horse, so he followed Jane's thumb and headed outside.

"Oh, he's handsome, don't you think?" Maura asked, winking at Jane, who merely raised her eyebrows in alarm.

"Yeah, handsome horse," Giovanni said, mishearing the comment. "Whoa!" he said, lifting one of Wind Whistler's front legs to get a look at the hoof. "You ride this thing all the way here from Boston?"

"Uh…no," Jane said flatly. "She's just wore out, that's all."

"No kiddin'."

"Well? You up for the job?" Jane asked impatiently.

Giovanni looked over his shoulder at Jane, frowning. Then he squinted at Maura, who was just smiling innocently at all the proceedings, and he straightened up. "Just so happens I think I've got some ready-made shoes about her size," he said, patting the horse's back and undoing the straps that connected it to the coach. "Nothin' a Gilberti can't handle." Walking towards Maura, he conversationally said, "Say, you know? I don't think I've ever seen a lady pretty as you out here! There must be somethin' back in Boston keeps you prettier, huh?"

"Oh, my!" Maura laughed, mistaking his flirtations for kindly banter. "Aren't you charming. You know your women out here are just as…" She turned to gesture at Jane before remembering that she was currently dressed as a man. "Just as lovely."

"And you talk pretty, too!"

"Why thank you! My father held plenty of esteem in my receiving a proper education."

"Ah. My father figured so long as I could handle a horse, I could handle a woman, and that's all the education I needed!"

Maura was about to point out the many biological and neurological differences between women and horses, but an exasperated Jane had stepped in again. "_Thank you_, Mr. Gilberti, for being so willing to help us out. If I may ask, where's the general store around these parts?"

"You need to go? Aw, it's clear on the other side of town," Giovanni said, raising a muscular arm and waving. "I wouldn't suggest havin' a lady walk so far. Maybe she could stay here and wait with me, huh?"

"Oh, I'd be fascinated to watch you work!" Maura said eagerly. "I've never actually seen—"

"No, Maura," Jane said. "I need your help. There's high-class medical supplies in this store, and I wouldn't be able to pick out which ones you need. You've gotta come with me."

Maura had to admit that, despite the allure of learning first-hand how to put a shoe on a horse, getting the chance to scope out medical supplies in a big town was a slightly more appealing prospect. She looked apologetically at Giovanni and said, "I'm sorry, he'll be helpless without me. _You _certainly seem to know what you're doing, with or without my help! But oh," she said, turning back to an annoyed-looking Jane. "How will we get to the other side of town if Mr. Gilberti has our horse?"

"Please, call me Giovanni!" the blacksmith laughed. "Maura, was it?"

"It was Miss Isles," Jane said through her teeth.

Looking unfazed, Giovanni said, "All right, Miss Isles. Why don't you borrow Giulietta?" He gestured to a very sleek, rust-colored horse beside him.

"Oh!" Maura gasped. "She's gorgeous! And what a pretty name, too."

"It's Italian," Giovanni pointed out needlessly, cuing an eye roll from Jane. "I raised her myself, since she was a colt. Hard birth, too, she was stubborn!" He held out his large arms, as though cradling a giant invisible baby. "But I got her outta there, you better believe it!"

With an open-mouthed grin, Maura turned excitedly to Jane. "What do you say?"

"All right," Jane sighed, stepping back and allowing Giovanni to attach his old mare to the front of their coach. Only with a slight trace of possessiveness did she then guide Maura back up in to the seat before Giovanni had a chance to. "Thank you," she said to him dryly once Giulietta was all set up. "If you could get to the lady's horse as soon as possible, we'd sure appreciate it."

"Consider it done, Mr. Charles!"

Barely suppressing another eye roll, Jane just flicked the reins and they set out at a trot so leisurely that Jane barely noticed they were even moving at all. "Huh," she snorted. "You know at this rate, he should definitely be done by the time we get back. No, really," she said when Maura made a disparaging "tch!" noise. "I think Bass could outrun this old girl."

"But she's sweet, isn't she?" Maura sighed. "Oh Jane—could I take the reins, please?"

"What? A lady drive a coach? Isn't that frowned upon, Dr. Isles?"

She bit her lip a little guiltily. "Well in Boston, yes. I was hoping it might be more accepted out here since you're so… so, uh…"

"Uncivilized?"

"I was going to say 'new,'" Maura said. "You don't have decades of traditions dictating your every move. And besides, I have _some _experience. Sometimes my father would make house calls to homes that were a little more in the country, and the roads were empty enough that he felt comfortable letting me practice my driving." She appeared to be nearly bounding with pent-up excitement. "_Please,_ Jane?"

They were moving so slowly that Jane felt comfortable turning to stare at Maura, not keeping her eyes on the road. "You _do _realize this is a busy street, right? Not some back country road?" When Maura nodded, Jane just sighed and said, "All right. God help us both if you kill somebody." And rather than stop the carriage, she simply stepped over Maura, encouraging the woman to scoot over, and gingerly handed her the reins. "Don't go crazy, now. And don't try and make her go too fast. And don't take any turns—I only asked Giovanni where the store was so he wouldn't know I'd been here before. It's just straight down. Don't take your eyes of the road either, okay?"

"I tremble and obey," Maura said with a cheeky grin, sparing a sidelong glance for Jane, who just snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes. After a pause, Maura asked, "Why didn't you want Giovanni to know we were from Hollow Creek?"

"Didn't like the way he was lookin' at you," Jane mumbled.

"How do you mean?"

"Really? C'mon Maura, you can't be _that _naïve. He was lookin' at ya like you were a porter house steak!"

"Don't be coarse, Jane, he was simply showing a level of interest in a customer who is not terrible to look at," Maura said lightly.

Jane pinched her nose and rolled her eyes. Did this woman know nothing? "If you say so, Maura. Look, I just don't want him getting the wrong idea and, I dunno, following us back into town after ya."

"That could easily be avoided if you had allowed me to say I moved here from Boston because my fiancé is here."

"Hey. The way I figure, your fiancé likes money, right? So he'd like to save it where he can, and he'd like _you _to save it where you can. The Gilberti's always give discounted prices to pretty women, but if he knows you're engaged, it'll be no deal. At least they're respectable _that _way…" Jane frowned and stared at Maura. "Did you _really _find him handsome?"

"Yes, in an… ethnic sort of way, don't you think? Why aren't you interested in pursuing him romantically?"

Another derisive snort. "Trust me, Maura. You grow up around a fella like that, and you get enough reasons not to pursue him."

"I thought he was sweet."

"Like I said, you ain't spent any _real _time with him. Besides, you wanna talk heartbreakers, talk _him_." Jane looked over again to see Maura just smiling serenely to herself. "Still? Really? Ain't ya ashamed of what Mr. Fairfield would think of ya?"

"Oh, what? I'm only thinking how nice it would be to have a friendly fellow like that around." With a bashful laugh, she admitted, "There used to be some Italians in my neighborhood when I was growing up, and they had some sons my age. I used to be a real romantic, Jane, and I thought how fantastic and scandalous it would be to kiss one of them! I guess Giovanni just brought those memories back. And like I said, he seems nice."

"Okay, really? Tell me what you have in common with him. He ain't high society, Maura. He's a low-class, Western blacksmith."

"Well so are you, except for the blacksmith part," Maura said lightly, turning briefly to look at Jane and frowning. "And we're… friends."

"Yes. But I'm _interesting_," Jane explained, as if this were obvious, eliciting an amused chuckle from Maura. "And, you don't wanna kiss me." She wasn't sure what had suddenly possessed her to allow those words to slip out, and she was even more unnerved when Maura's only response was to shoot her a look that made it appear as if the suggestion weren't entirely crazy. "_Do _you?" Jane had to tease her.

Maura didn't dignify that with an immediate response. Instead, after a long pause, she said, "I oughtn't to let you encourage me in these sorts of conversations. Garrett wouldn't approve."

"Oh he wouldn't, huh?"

"No. _He's _high society."

"Yeah, I got that impression."

"He likes things a certain way—and he's always liked the finer things in life."

_Sure, he likes you_.

"You know, he had ancestors who came over on the Mayflower."

"The what?"

"The Mayflower! Oh, Jane, you know—the ship that brought the first English settlers to America, over two hundred years ago." She shook her head in disbelief when Jane betrayed no inkling of understanding. "Well anyway, his family's very well established, and has been for quite some time. Jane, why won't you tell me your last name?"

"Whoa, how'd we get onto _that_ subject?"

"I just feel that a surname really lends a person an identity, an understanding of their place in the world. Like you when most people on the Eastern seaboard hear the name 'Fairfield,' they know who they're dealing with. I feel I don't quite know you without knowing your full name."

"Huh. Interesting notion, Maura. I think you're right… a surname _does _have a lot to do with a person. That's why I don't like sharin' mine." She sighed deeply, leaning back as much as the seat would allow. "After my father died …it didn't feel right carryin' it on anymore."

Maura's frown deepened. "Don't you think the proper thing would be to carry it on for him? In his memory?"

"No," Jane said softly. "Not the way he went. I had to part myself from that. You can ask anyone ya want, Maura. You can ask Frankie and Tommy if they'll tell you their last name. They'll tell ya it's Johnson."

"Johnson?"

"He was President when our dad was killed."

"Oh…"

"And don't go around askin' nobody else, neither." Her tone was deadly serious. "Last man who spoke my father's name ain't been able to sit right since."

Maura looked her way again, still not sure why it was such a sensitive issue for the woman. "Jane… Jane, you look as though you're going to be sick."

"It's your driving," Jane groaned. "Do you gotta hit _every _bump in the road, Maura?"

"You cad."

"Cad! Well. I say, Maura, that's mighty hurtful comin' out of you. Didn't you say I looked like your fiancé's uncle? Uncle Charles? Shouldn't you show more respect to a Fairfield? After all, our ancestors _did _come over on the Cornflower."

Maura chuckled, glad that Jane possessed a sense of humor that could lighten any damp atmosphere. "All right then. Charles? You have heavenly teeth."

"There you go," Jane laughed. "My father was a dentist. Always made sure me and my brothers had good teeth. They've kinda let themselves go, but I kept at it. I figured he woulda wanted it that way."

"Would your father want you running around the country with Frost, dressed like a man and gaining a criminal reputation?"

When Jane responded, her tone was not angry, but it wasn't jocular, either. "Everything I do, I do for my father, Maura. I'm sorry if you take offense that I don't share every personal part of my life with ya, but you'll just have to deal with that." She felt the comment was warranted, but when she caught sight of Maura's proud yet clearly hurt expression, Jane was a little ashamed. She remorsefully added, "I don't tell most anybody. Hell, Maura, I don't hardly know ya and I feel more comfortable around you than I do most people."

"Really?" Maura asked softly, feeling her heartbeat rise.

"Yeah," Jane muttered, staring down at her hands. "Yeah, I do."

"I…I feel the same," Maura said. "This has never really happened to me before, Jane. I've never had an easy time making friends. There's always been some underlying motive to it, or a discomfort or awkwardness. I don't feel that with you. I feel as though you …as though you really _are _just my friend."

"I am. I want to be."

"So do I."

"Oh stop here, that's the store," Jane said, breaking their bonding moment. Maura then nearly broke their necks by yanking on the reins, which for some reason caused Giulietta to make a quick dash and then an abrupt stop. Jane flung out her arm to make sure Maura didn't go flying over the front of the coach, and when it quickly became evident that they were more startled than endangered, Jane said, "Nice driving there, champ."

"Don't be rude, Charles."

Maura inhaled deeply, and Jane realized her arm was still pressed tightly against the woman's waist. She slowly withdrew it, unconscious of the fact that she herself wasn't breathing as she did so. Jane jumped out of the coach as Maura stayed in, collecting her breath after their near-accident, turning only when Jane showed up on her side of the coach. "Oh, J—Charles."

"What?"

"Well look down!"

Jane did this and saw she was standing ankle-deep in a muddy puddle. "Ah. Well, come on, and take a jump over it."

"Excuse me?" Maura asked, as if Jane had just told her to swim to the moon. "Ladies don't jump, Charles."

"Well gosh, _ma'am_, if I had a coat, I'd lay it over the puddle for ya, but all I've got is this shirt. So unless you'd like me to take it off in public—" She cut off and sighed loudly at the frown Maura was giving her. "All right, come on. I'll carry ya."

"You'll what?"

"I'll carry ya. Ain't that the gentlemanly thing to do? Hell, Maura, I've already got mud all over my boots." She put one foot up onto the step of the carriage, holding her arms out expectantly. Maura looked around as if trying to find another way out, but her eyes returned to Jane when the brunette chuckled softly. "C'mon, Maura. Don't you trust me?"

There was that question again. And for some reason, Maura felt the answer was yes. She hesitantly lowered herself, taking Jane's hand and then allowing herself to essentially be picked up. Her arms were cumbered awkwardly around Jane's neck as Jane skillfully held Maura with one arm at the crook of her knees and the other supporting her back. She turned and took three large steps towards the general store, out of the mud, and Maura got the faint impression that Jane had carried women like this before. Nobody paid them any attention as Jane carefully set her down on dry ground.

"See now, was that so terrible?" Jane asked.

"Not so terrible as muddying up these shoes would have been."

"Good answer. Now just how many layers are you wearing, Miss Isles, or is that an indecent question to ask?"

Maura started walking into the store, and Jane followed on shaky legs. "That is an _extremely_ indecent question to ask, Charles. Now where might we find some medical supplies?"

Watching Maura inspect medical merchandise was like seeing a kid set loose in a penny candy store. It was very difficult for her to refrain from buying everything she saw, but she ultimately settled on all she could afford, which was a pair of Liston knives, a capital saw, and surgical needles. For her part, Jane was entertained merely watching the sales clerk's eyes as he rung up Maura's order, raising his eyebrows and no doubt wondering what on earth a polished looking lady like this could be buying such things for. Before they left, Jane picked out the cheapest jacket she could find and paid for it once Maura had already walked outside. Upon joining her friend, she presented the purple jacket with a flourish.

"Oh, Charles! That doesn't go with what you're wearing at all!" Maura said, sounding disdainful.

"It don't have to, so long as it'll withstand mud," Jane said. And with another flourish, she lay the jacket out on the puddle of mud by Maura's side of the coach, offering her hand. "If I may, Miss Isles."

A faint sense of disappointment briefly weighed Maura down—she had wanted to be carried again. _Why? That's so infantile. _She quickly took Jane's hand and stepped onto the newly purchased, soon-to-be-abandoned jacket and up into the coach. When Jane had joined her on the other side and reached for the reins, Maura said, "Hold on. You bought a brand new jacket for me to dirty up _just _so you could switch sides with me?"

Jane frowned. "Fair point. All right, take us back to Giovanni's. Do you know how to turn this thing around?"

"Of course." And though it took several tries, Maura was indeed finally able to get them turned around and headed back to the blacksmith's. "It's a lovely name, don't you think? The horse? Giulietta."

"Hm? Oh, sure."

She missed the sarcasm. "Yes, it derives from the Italian word for Jupiter."

"You know Italian?"

"Didn't I say I used to know a little? I'm afraid it leaves much to be desired. It's such a beautiful language, though, don't you think? Or haven't you ever heard it?"

"I have." She left it at that.

With a slow smile, Maura said, "You know, I think that mustache suits you."

Jane let out a short laugh. "It does, huh?"

"Yes, and I think you look much better without the goatee. I prefer a clean-shaven look on men when it comes to beards."

"But this mustache you're okay with?"

"Like I said," Maura giggled, glancing at Jane. "It suits you."

"Because it makes me look like a Fairfield."

"Perhaps." Another long silence followed, during which Jane idly wondered whether a tumbleweed could outrun their tired old horse. The lack of conversation was oddly comfortable, sort of like the ones Jane shared with Frost. Neither of them spoke because words weren't necessary, because they felt fine just being in each other's company. Maura, however, loathed silence and had more she wanted to say, anyway. "Jane?"

"Yes?"

"What're you looking for?"

"Hm?"

"What're you looking for? When you're with Frost, or… I don't know, even when you're not doing whatever it is you do as Jake Wyatt. What happens in the end?"

"Gosh, Maura, I don't know."

"You don't know at all?"

"There are some things I can't share with you. I told ya that already."

"Oh. Right." Another short silence. "You know Jane, I won't care. There's probably _nothing _you can tell me that would shock me too much. Well, no, I might be shocked—I admit to being quite surprised when you jumped into my carriage and turned out to be a woman. But I can't imagine you would be guilty of anything that would cause me to turn fully away from you. My father worked with death. My mother abandoned my family and does heaven knows what in Europe. I know you see me—and your town sees me, and sometimes Garrett sees me—and you think I'm this delicate flower that needs to be sheltered, looked after. I suppose that's true; I _do _need somebody to take care of me, perhaps because that's what I'm accustomed to. But that doesn't mean I can't take it when I hear things. Bad things, salacious things, frightening things."

Jane stared at her a long time. "Maura. There are some things nobody should ever have to hear, including you. Including me. If I could, I'd… well, never mind."

"Do you at least believe me?"

"About what?"

"That I wouldn't turn my back. That I trust you."

Jane's heart was pounding; a loud pumping sound in her ears nearly drowned out Maura's words. "Yes, Maura," she finally said. "I believe that."

This proclamation was met with another loud silence, which Maura finally broke by saying, "Do you suppose he might be finished?"

"Giovanni? Possibly. Your horse only needed her two front hooves done."

They finished the rest of their ride in silence, and when they got back to Giovanni's, it was to see the blacksmith grinning toothily at them from the entrance of his work space. "Well, well, lookit you!" he said to Maura as she gently pulled Giulietta to a stop. "Very impressive!"

"Thank you," Maura said, taking the hand he had offered to help her out of the coach.

"I got your girl all set here," he said, gesturing to Wind Whistler. "Whaddya think?"

Maura and Jane both gasped loudly (and the latter unabashedly took the Lord's name in vain) when Giovanni lifted one of the mare's front legs, revealing a gold-plated hoof that matched the one on her other front leg.

"What—what were you thinking?" Jane cried, astonished at how quickly Wind Whistler had gone from looking like a class act to the animal of a dance hall prostitute.

"Sir, I never think, I just do. You know?"

"Yes," Maura said weakly. "Yes, I do."

"So," Giovanni said with a boyish grin, winking at Maura and waving a kerchief at her. "You like it? Wanna see how it's done, wanna watch me work? Get a little hot under the iron with me?"

Maura's mouth opened slightly, and it dawned her that everything Jane had been saying about Giovanni was true. Perhaps he might have seemed harmless to a fair number of people, but the look on his face and the tone of his voice no longer seemed cheekily innocent to her; they came off as scoundrel-like flirtation, which was incredibly uncalled for and wildly inappropriate. Discount or no, Maura felt it would be prudent to explain to Giovanni that it would be in very poor taste for him to continue his seducing ways.

"I think…" She turned to Jane for help, Jane, who still looked stunned at the horse's new bedazzled hooves. "I think we should just tell him."

"Tell him what?" Jane said blankly, finally tearing her eyes away from Wind Whistler and looking at Maura.

"You know. Don't you think—?"

"Oh. Right. Yes," Jane said, walking over. In her gut she knew this would be awkward, but she also got the feeling that if Maura told Giovanni she was engaged but that "Charles" wasn't her fiancé and not her brother, the blacksmith wouldn't be convinced. So, praying that Maura would just go along with it, Jane put her arms around Maura from behind and said, "Yes, yes I do." Normally she'd have been content to just take a few warning shots near Giovanni's feet, but Maura had just made Jane promise not to shoot at anyone else in her presence, so this seemed like their only option.

"Do what?" Giovanni asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm engaged," Maura said weakly, her hands lifting to rest on Jane's forearms. She couldn't properly feel Jane through her gloves or Jane's sleeves, but she was definitely very conscious of the warmth Jane's arms brought to her stomach and waist, gripping her a bit tighter than was probably necessary. Yet it felt good, somehow.

"Get it?" Jane husked, nodding and raising her eyebrows at Giovanni. _How does her hair smell this good? What does she put in it? And how is it so soft? _She felt a chill go through her as Maura stroked her arm with one hand, pushing the boundary of what Jane thought might be decent (if they weren't pushing it already).

Finally, comprehension dawned on Giovanni's features. "Oh," he said. "Oh! Uh, right."

"We'll just be paying you and gettin' on our way then," Jane said pointedly.

"Yeah, sure, of course…"

And within two minutes, they had Wind Whistler back at the front of the coach with Jane at the reins, and were headed back to Hollow Creek. As soon as they had gotten out of sight of the blacksmith's, both women burst into laughter. Pulling the wool over Giovanni's eyes had been delightfully fun, but the laughing also provided a cover to pretend as though they hadn't enjoyed the fake intimacy as much as they had.

"We're very fortunate to have pulled that off," Maura tittered into the back of her hand. "You chose your words well."

"How do you mean?"

"I can't tell lies."

"You can't? How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that whenever I try, I start to breathe heavily and there's a chance I will pass out."

"Can't lie, huh?" Jane asked with a grin. "So tell me, then: do you think I look better with the mustache, or without it? Because I was thinkin' of just keepin' it on and walking into Angela's with it."

Maura laughed. "Well. I think you look handsome with it on, but… you look beautiful without it."

Jane released a low, disbelieving chuckle. "You really think I'm beautiful, Maura?"

"Did I not just tell you I'm incapable of lying?"

"You did," she sighed, peeling off the mustache and beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt.

"What—again?"

"Did ya think I was serious about lettin' Angela see me with this on?"

"Let me drive!"

"No! I hate when you drive!"

"Well I hate when you undress and drive!"

"Maura, I swear, you're goin' to be the death of me…"

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><p><strong>AN**: I am facing so much internal struggling about the pacing of Rizzles, here. But thanks for reading, and reviews are love! :)


	12. Stargazing

**A/N**: Thanks a mil for all the positive feedback, folks! Glad y'all liked the last chapter. I didn't expect to have this one up so soon, but I just couldn't stop writing- it's been too fun!

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><p>By the time they got back to Hollow Creek, Maura realized she was cutting it close to when she was supposed to meet Garrett. Riding Wind Whistler in her shiny new shoes would have to wait for another day. Walking from Korsak's station to the boarding house with Jo Friday at her heels, Jane said, "Gosh, I'm sorry, Maura. I shoulda known Giovanni would do somethin' stupid like gold horseshoes to try and impress you."<p>

"Oh, don't worry, Jane. Golden horseshoes are…strangely becoming."

"Come on, Maura!" Jane laughed. "Look, if you want, I could fix those for ya. I ain't a master with horseshoes, but Frost and I've had to learn how to do it ourselves a lot. The horses may not love us for it, but we get the job done. I could give Wind Whistler a shot if you like."

"That's sweet of you, Jane, but it isn't necessary. I paid Giovanni for his services—"

"You wouldn't have to pay me," Jane said quickly.

Maura smiled. "I would, though. But anyway, this was a valuable learning experience. Now I'll know from now on to be more specific when dealing with blacksmiths and other tradesmen out here."

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't have to deal with stuff like that back in Boston…"

"Not typically, no. And while the golden horseshoes might not be ideal, they'll… set Wind Whistler out from the crowd, don't you think? Besides, she's a lovely horse, but far too gray for my liking. She could use a gold tint."

Jane chuckled, knowing that Maura was just trying to cheer her up. "If you say so, Dr. Isles." They had reached the boarding house, and Jane said, "Is Mr. Fairfield meeting you here?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll be on my way then."

"Oh, you don't have to leave—not yet, anyway. Would you like to come up and see Bass? I think he's adjusting wonderfully. I put him on the sill by the window, because I have the curtains open during the day and it's good for him to get as much sun as possible."

An involuntary blush tinted Jane's cheeks at the invitation back to Maura's bedroom, one she knew Mr. Fairfield would not receive for several months to come. "Ah, maybe some other time," Jane said, nodding at her dog. "Can't bring Jo up there." Maura nodded her understanding and Jane scuffed the toe of her boot in the dirt. "You goin' to dinner with him?"

"Yes, we're going to Wohaw Springs. He says he's discovered a restaurateur there who makes remarkable food for a decent price."

"Oh," Jane said softly. "That'll be nice. And the ride back on the lake'll be real nice, too—bein' out on the water with the stars."

"Oh I should think we'll be back well before dark," Maura said quickly. "Being out at the lake could be dangerous, couldn't it?"

Jane merely shrugged. "You don't think he'd be able to protect you?"

Maura took a small step back. "I don't mean—I mean, not dangerous because of other people, I mean just because it would be dark."

"Ah. Right. Well, the sight would probably be ruined anyway if there was that milksop with the steamboat on the lake again. I tell ya, the sound of that thing would kill any mood you're in."

"That's Garrett's," Maura said quietly.

"It's…oh," Jane said, raising her eyebrows. "Uh, sorry…"

"No, don't be," Maura sighed. "Personally, I agree with you. The sound from the engine drowns out any opportunity for real conversation, and besides—it isn't necessary like a train might be, to get you from one side of the country to the other. Taking a steamboat across a lake seems about as practical as taking a train from Hollow Creek to Green Forge! If there is a simpler way that would require more effort on your part, you ought to take it."

Jane grinned. "You gonna tell Mr. Fairfield that?"

"I'm certainly not," Maura said, gathering her skirt and walking up the steps of the boarding house's porch. "And you'd better not either, Calamity Jane—"

"Or what, you'll sic your turtle on me?" Jane chuckled.

"_Tortoise_, Jane. Honestly, you're the one who picked him out, you ought to know what he's called!"

Merely waving her hand dismissively, Jane said, "All right, all right. Go wash your face before your man gets here. You look something dreadful!" When Maura looked horrified and dashed inside, Jane half-heartedly called after her, "Uh—that was a joke…" She waited by the porch a while longer to see if Maura would come back, but when she seemed to be taking her time, Jane decided to leave. When she turned to do so, she nearly ran right into Garrett. "Oh! Hello there, Mr. Fairfield!"

He tipped his hat to her and stepped out of her way. "Afternoon, Jane."

Something was different about him today… after a few moments of silent study, Jane realized that unlike the last time she had seen him, Garrett was now wearing a holster with a pistol in it. Before she could stop herself, Jane pointed at the gun and said, "You know how to use that thing?"

Garrett raised his eyebrows until he realized what exactly Jane was gesturing to. "Oh, this?" he asked, pulling the pistol out and nearly dropping it. "Well, I admit it's mostly for show. I thought Maura would find it amusing—that is, my attempt at assimilating into your slightly more…" He waved his (gun-free) hand thoughtfully before landing on, "_rustic _ways here. But I like to think that if pressed, any man would be up to the challenge of using a firearm successfully. I just don't envision needing it tonight."

"Right," Jane murmured. "Well, it was nice seein' ya again Mr. Fairfield. C'mon, Jo."

And after taking a nip at Garrett's heel, the dog clumsily scampered after her owner.

True to Maura's word, she and Garrett had crossed the lake to Wohaw Springs and made it back before the sun had quite finished going down. They sat together on the porch of Garrett's home, holding hands and watching the sun set. Maura would never get enough of the sunsets and sunrises out here—so vast, so open, so like a painting. Away from the bustle of Boston and Europe, one could truly sit back and better appreciate the miracles of nature like this. She was not often driven to paint, but she almost wished she had a canvas nearby just to capture the beauty, the beauty that was nearly about to disappear with nighttime.

Garrett drove her back to the boarding house before it got too dark. Maura had just finished telling him about the blacksmith who had fashioned golden hooves for her horse (leaving out the part where Jane pretended to be her fiancé), and they were having a good laugh about it.

"We also stopped at a general store for some medical supplies, and I was so excited about them that I forgot to pick up some fabrics," Maura said.

"Fabrics? What for?"

"Oh Garrett, you know I've always enjoyed making things—knitting and sewing, you know, all that. I wanted to make you something—some socks, or perhaps a sweater when the weather turns colder."

"Oh Maura, you don't have to do anything like that!" Garrett laughed. "You see this?" Keeping the reins in one hand, he used the other to lift his pant leg enough to display his sock to Maura. "Made out of the finest materials money can buy. You and I both know that no money can be spared when it comes to purchasing the right attire! Clothes make the man, Maura, and I am not ashamed to admit that I think a lot of the respect I get around here comes from the fact that I don't dress like a country bumpkin who just fell off the backseat of a wagon!"

"Of course," Maura said with a faint smile. "You do look quite dapper, Garrett! You always have."

He sighed contentedly and put an arm around her. "Yes, Maura, you and I make a mighty good-looking couple, don't we?"

"We certainly do," she chuckled.

When they had reached the boarding house, Garrett stopped the coach and turned to look at her. "Maura, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you've come out here. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've been patient and understanding, and have agreed to wait for me. I'm sure if you wanted to, you could have your pick of any of the men back in Boston, or even, dare I say, back in Europe."

"But none of them are you, dear," Maura said. "And you are worth waiting for."

With that, Garrett kissed her hand and bade her goodnight. Maura hurried inside, rushing up to her room to close the windows and the curtains against the chilly night air. She was worried more for Bass' sake than her own. It was odd, she thought, watching Bass sit utterly still in his crate. He wasn't particularly handsome to look at, he barely moved (let alone interacted with her), and he wasn't soft to the touch. But she loved him all the same. As she undressed she even found herself talking to him, sharing more details about the day with him than she possibly could have with Garrett. _I guess Jane was right—I __do__ need someone to talk to! _Just as she was preparing to settle down with _Little Women_, a knock sounded lightly at her door. Curious, Maura went to open it.

"What're you doing here?" she asked in surprise as Jane walked inside.

"Come to take you out," she answered simply.

"Out? It's nighttime!" Maura said.

Not seeming to have heard the comment, Jane walked over to Bass' crate, and peering inside, observed, "Hey, you're right! I think he _does _look mighty happy here. Kinda grows on you, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but please, Jane, explain what you mean about going out."

"Why're your windows closed?" Jane asked, moving to open one of the curtains.

Maura gasped loudly and took a very unladylike large step over to knock Jane's hand away from the window. "_Jane!_ That's indecent! I'm in a nightdress, and there are men in this town, you know! Men… who might be looking in! In to a women's boarding house at night!"

"Ah, they're all too drunk anyhow," Jane said. "I just figured if you weren't gonna get the chance to see the night sky with Mr. Fairfield out on the lake, you oughtta get the chance someplace else."

"What's so enchanting about the sky at night?" Maura asked. "I've seen it."

"Not out here you haven't. In big cities, sure. In places where ya got lights burning all through the night. It ain't the same. I tell ya, Maura, if you ain't been outside at night here, you're missing the most beautiful part of the land."

"But it's late."

"So? You afraid of the dark?"

"No…"

"Then what? We won't be gone long, and I'll have ya back soon, I promise. Come on," she said with a smile, catching Maura's eye. "Don't be afraid. I'll keep ya safe."

"I know you will," Maura said in a soft voice.

Jane grinned, pleased by the obvious honesty in Maura's tone. "So let's go, then." She laughed at Maura's continuing hesitation. "It ain't even nine, doc, c'mon. It won't take long, and you won't regret it, I promise."

Maura sighed heavily, as if Jane were asking her to clean an outhouse. "All right. I will meet you downstairs—I'm certainly not going out dressed like this!"

"I can wait," Jane said brightly. And wait she did: Maura didn't emerge in the lobby for another twenty-five minutes. "Good _Lord_, did you take a bath, too?"

"I'm wearing layers, Jane," Maura said curtly. "It takes time!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jane said, leading the way outside. "I just—oh. Dang, I shoulda brought a blindfold for ya. Will ya close your eyes?"

"What? Aren't we just going outside?"

"Well…sort of. There's a place I'd like to take you to. But it'll ruin the full effect of the thing if you just walk right out into it."

"How will I get where we're going?" When Jane extended an empty, gloved hand, Maura raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"It's my hand. Give me yours."

Maura hesitated, then reached for Jane's hand and closed her eyes when she felt the woman's fingers close around hers. "You'd better not be smirking," she said as Jane carefully started to lead her outside.

"Don't worry, I'm not," Jane chuckled.

They walked in silence for a few moments, connected not by words but by their hands. Maura's were bare, and Jane found herself suddenly wishing hers were as well. It was silly, but she wanted to feel her… she remembered how soft Maura's hands had felt on her feet, and she wanted to touch those delicate hands with her fingers. Maura was fresh and clean, raised in a sheltered environment with hands that hadn't needed to do real work a day in her life. They wouldn't be calloused or dirty…

Maura inhaled sharply when she felt Jane pull away.

"It's all right," Jane said softly, tugging off the glove of her right hand and sticking it in her pocket. Then with a breath to steady herself, she grazed her fingers against the smooth skin of Maura's palm. Maura couldn't help jerking at the ticklish and unexpected contact, but Jane quickly assuaged her: "It's okay. I just—want to …I want to hold your hand."

Maura's breath hitched. "All right."

The problem was that Jane wasn't sure how to progress without letting Maura feel the ugly scars on her palms. She was sure if that happened, Maura would not be able to concentrate on the beauty of the stars—the woman was too intelligent to mistake these precise, surgical marks for accidents. But Jane so desperately needed this contact, she was determined to find a way to do this. She brushed the back of her fingers under Maura's palm. As Maura involuntarily tried to squeeze her hand, Jane moved downwards, taking Maura's fingers between her own, and after a moment, rubbed her thumb across them. Jane wasn't aware of it, but she was grinning like a fool—this felt wonderful, and Maura couldn't even feel her scarred palms.

A long, pleasant silence passed before Maura asked—with an air of curious impatience—where exactly they were going.

"We're almost there," Jane whispered, and indeed a few moments later, they had reached the spot by the creek. "Do ya feel that?" Jane asked, guiding Maura onto the blanket she had laid out there earlier. "Will ya sit down? It's clean, I swear on my father's grave. A blanket, not grass." And she helped Maura down, then gently pushed her onto her back. "You okay?" she husked, her hot breath breaking against Maura's ear. The doctor could only nod weakly. "All right," Jane said, her voice brimming with anticipation. "Go ahead and open your eyes."

Maura immediately obeyed, and a gasp escaped her at the sight. The sky was a black midnight blue, broken by a scattering of brightly shining stars. Stretched farther than the eye could see was an ocean of constellations, sparkling and grand in every sense of the word. It was without question the most beautiful sight Maura had ever beheld.

"Jane," she said, and the word was a breath, an inhale. "Oh, it's…it's…" She emitted a shaky, breathless laugh. "Breathtaking!"

"You like it?" Jane asked, a grin evident in her voice as she folded her hands behind her head.

"The—the stars look closer, they look brighter than they do in Boston," Maura enthused. "Possibly because of the higher altitude you have out here."

Jane chuckled. "I shoulda known you'd find a way to describe beauty with science."

"Well, it's true," Maura giggled. "Oh, but…" She exhaled deeply, sounding greatly satisfied. "I don't think language exists to properly describe this."

"I agree," Jane said. "That's how come I knew I had to show ya, get you out here. I couldn't have done it justice just tellin' ya about it."

After a pause, Maura turned to face Jane. "How would you have?"

"What?" Jane snorted, meeting Maura's gaze.

Turning onto her back again, Maura closed her eyes. "Describe it to me, Jane. The stars and the sky. I want to hear how you'd describe it all."

"Aw gee, Maura, you're bein' awful silly."

"Indulge me in my silliness," Maura laughed.

"Open your eyes, you're missing it!"

"It'll be there when I look again."

Jane sighed heavily. "It's big and black but there are stars lightin' it up."

"Oh come on, Jane. Pretend you're speaking to a blind man. How would you describe this sky to him? Or pretend you are writing a letter to a person—a child—who has never seen a proper night sky, and your words are the only thing that can get him to come out West."

"Well which are you, the blind person or the child?"

Starting to get impatient, Maura said, "I don't know, Jane, just pick one!" When a long silence followed, Maura said, "I won't open my eyes until you do."

"I'm thinkin', Maura, give me a second!" Jane said. Then, after another long pause she said, "All right. Dear Timmy."

"Timmy?"

"Yes! The blind kid in Boston I'm writing to! Dear Timmy…"

She inhaled deeply, collecting her thoughts, and when she let the breath out, it sounded slow and relaxed. "If your parents don't wanna move out West, you should tell 'em about the sky we got out here. It sure is beautiful in the daytime, but at night, oh boy, it's somethin' else. I ain't never seen an ocean, or the sea—I ain't ever seen a body of water bigger or more raging than a lake—but I got it in my head the sky's an ocean hangin' over us. It don't ever seem to end, and ya can't see how deep it goes. Instead of fish, ya got stars. Know what a star is? A star is like …a star is… like a fleck of silver, flung up into the sky. Now when you dig up silver, it's in dirt, it's—dusty and dirty. But in the sky, silver can really shine. And don't nobody fight over it, like they do on earth, because can't nobody get the silver up in the sky but God. They sky is the final frontier nobody can stake a claim on. Imagine that—big, wide, open, free. It's dark, but it ain't scary, 'cause of all those silver stars scattered around like blessings. You can't wrap yourself up in it, but it feels like lyin' under a blanket all the same. I bet if you could touch it, the sky'd be soft, and holding a star'd be like holdin' a precious stone.

"Oh, and you ever stay out later than you should? Your parents ever leave a lamp in the window for ya? Well that's what the moon is: God leavin' the light on for ya. Some nights it's brighter or bigger than others, but it's _always _there. The moon don't ever go out. It's God's way of sayin' 'hey kid, you may think you're lost, or that ya don't need me no more. You may think your life's headed no place. But I ain't given up on you yet, so don't _you _give up.' No matter where you are in the world or the country, the moon and the stars'll be there. But you'll be closer out here in the West—right up in front of ya. Ain't nothin' that come close to nature like this. I reckon even if you took a photograph, you couldn't catch it. Ya gotta be _in _it. Ya gotta experience it. That's the only way to feel small, and feelin' small will help ya try even harder to make your mark in the world, which is what all men should be aimin' to do. That's what the sky is. That's what the stars do."

Her voice had been so sweet, so soothing—like she had been relaying a bedtime story—that were it not for the same low register, Maura might not have recognized it as Jane's. Now the only sounds reaching her ears were the strangely musical chirps of the cricket bugs, and the creek trickling off in the near distance. When Maura opened her eyes to take the sky in again, a tear slid out of each eye.

"Oh Jane," she breathed. "That was lovely. That was pure poetry."

The darkness hid Jane's blush, and she was suddenly self-conscious. "Aw, it was just kid stuff. Not science-like or sophisticated like you'd have put it."

Maura silenced her by placing a hand gently on Jane's arm. "You described it perfectly."

Jane couldn't deny that her heart swelled at these words, at Maura's approval. (That she felt a reaction because Maura had initiated contact with her was something she did not stop to think about.) "You see that one?" she asked, squinting and pointing upwards. "The biggest, the brightest star? That's Rigel. It's our compass between times we can get our hands on a map, me and Frost." She quickly added, "Uh, I think that's what it's called, anyhow. According to a fortune teller we come across once."

"Oh yes," Maura whispered when Jane had lowered her arm. "When I was a child, I studied the constellations for entertainment, to exercise my brain, but I haven't really stargazed since. My parents, even my mother, didn't like for me to be out much at night, so I had to make do with what I could see from my window. So …I mostly studied the constellations out of books, not the sky."

"Er…constellations?" Jane asked warily.

"Yes! Oh, I can see them so clearly out here! After I grew up, I lost interest in them mostly because they aren't, well, real. A constellation is a group of stars, a collection of stars, that poets and astronomers—like Ptolemy—discovered and named over time. They have little purpose other than navigational ones, as you mentioned, or to help people remember which stars are which. There are dozens to study, and they all come about seasonally. Probably the best known are Ursa—"

"Why don'tcha just point out your favorite one?" Jane interrupted patiently. "Otherwise we'll be out here all night, and I think we'd better be gettin' you back soon."

"Fair point," Maura conceded. "Hm…well I suppose _one _of my favorites would have to be Orion, as he's an archer, like myself—unless you read his bow as a shield, which many do, and which may actually be the correct interpretation. The ancients believed Orion was a giant placed in the heavens to protect people below. But aside from that, it's the constellation with the brightest stars—there's Rigel, as you pointed out, and Betelgeuse and Bellatrix."

"Betelgeuse and Bellatrix?" Jane laughed. "Those sound a bit off-putting."

"Oh, I think they're beautiful names," Maura sighed. "Anyway, do you see it? Do you see Orion? Rigel is his foot, and then if you go upwards, you can see the shield he's holding in one hand and the club in another…"

Jane tried to follow Maura's tracing finger in the dark, but to no avail. "That's supposed to be an archer? I don't see it."

"Well, it's abstract at best, Jane. It won't be an _exact _likeness; you have to sort of use your imagination. See, look, there's the shield—"

As Maura went through it again, Jane lifted her own finger in an attempt to follow Maura's movements. She groaned a laugh and said, "No fair, your mother's a painter, you _get _this stuff!"

"I hardly think that's a fair judgment," Maura laughed.

Their dropped their hands simultaneously, and Jane's landed on top of Maura's. She pulled away instantly, as if she'd been burned, not wanting Maura to feel her scar. Even if Jane had been looking, the darkness would have hid the sight of Maura compulsively reaching back for Jane's hand, wondering if she had done something to upset the woman.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, of course," Jane said quickly, sitting up. She was about to suggest they head back when she heard a wild dog howling. Maura sat up immediately, but Jane just laughed and said, "Don't worry, Maura, it's only a coyote." When more voices joined the first, she said, "Or maybe a pack."

"Let's go," Maura said, grabbing hold of Jane's shoulder.

"No, no, it's all right," Jane chuckled. "We ain't had coyotes in the Creek for years. They like howlin' from hilltops, and there ain't any of those around for about half a mile."

"Well why are they howling?" Maura asked, her nails still clenched into Jane's shoulder like the time they had nearly been attacked by a snake.

"Could be a few reasons," Jane mused. "Sounds like the first guy was just callin' his pack together, and they're probably about to bunker down for the night. I'd say it's a mating call, but it ain't spring yet, so I don't think that's it. You know, sometimes coyotes like to make bunks by creeks. Not this one, though," she said, when this fun tidbit of information had caused Maura to tighten her grip. "Gosh, Maura, you know you ain't got nothin' to be afraid of. I seen plenty of coyotes, and I ain't ever been close to gettin' hurt by one. So long as you leave 'em alone, they'll leave _you _alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Besides, if one came runnin' over here—which he won't—I'd be ready," she said matter-of-factly, pulling her gun out of its holster. "I got six bullets here. And if there's more'n six, I'll take 'em out with my teeth if I have to." The howling had stopped, having subsided into yipping and yelping that also eventually came to a halt. "See? They're asleep."

"Or they're coming to attack us."

"Yes. They heard there was a lecture on constellations goin' on and just couldn't _wait _to be in on it."

Maura slapped Jane's shoulder. "I'm serious."

"So am I! About them sleeping, I mean. Look, you just gotta show these wild animal's who's boss, Maura." Jane held her gun up, as if to fire into the woods across the creek. Instead, she let out a shrill howling sound that startled Maura so badly she inadvertently shoved Jane onto her side. Now laughing hysterically, Jane continued her weak howling.

"Jane!" Maura hissed, continuing to slap her shoulder. "Stop!"

Jane just shook her head, straightening up and howling again. "Come on, boys, that all you got?" she hollered out. "Maura, join in, or they'll think you're easy pickin's. Show 'em you'll finish last. Come on. It's fun."

And she threw her head back, drawing out another long, another loud "arrooooo!" sound. When she paused to draw breath, Maura resignedly sighed and chipped in a few yipping noises. Jane turned to look at her, an open-mouthed grin dominating her expression at Maura's adorable attempts to yelp.

"Yeah!" Jane shouted. "Now howl!"

"Oh no, I don't think I can do that."

"Sure you can! Just, you know, put your lips into a circle," Jane said, making the shape with her own mouth to demonstrate. "Then you breathe in, and instead of just breathin' out, you let it all out with a sort of a WHOOOOO!"

And now Maura was laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, at the faces Jane was making to entertain her, and at the unprecedentedly insane sound now issuing out of her own throat. The townspeople of Hollow Creek had never been more worried that coyotes had actually found their way into town as that night, when two ladies on the edge of the creek let loose with their best/worst coyote impersonations.

After another moment or two, Maura had exhausted all her imitative skills, and flopped back down onto the blanket. "You are crazy," she snickered.

"I figure ya need crazy," Jane said, also resuming her position of lying her back with her hands behind her head. "You been cooped up in Boston too long, and now you've got Mr. Fairfield horning in on you again. Don'tcha need someone crazy like me?"

"I'm not sure anyone needs more craziness in their lives," Maura chortled.

"Keeps things interesting, don't it?"

"And possibly dangerous."

"Aw, you're a chicken," Jane snorted. When Maura did not respond for several long moments, Jane turned to look at her. Her vision now fully adjusted to the dark, she noticed that Maura's eyes were closed. "Are you sleeping?"

"I'm meditating. It's too stressful to argue with you right now."

"What's meditating?"

"It's a mental exercise that helps me to more fully engage in contemplation and reflection for the purpose of reaching a heightened level of spiritual awareness. I think you could stand to do it, too, Jane."

Jane closed her eyes, and beautiful as the night sky was, she _did _find it strangely peaceful to shut out the visual world and concentrate on the (now coyote-less) sounds of nature. "Ain't ya worried you'll fall asleep?" she half-yawned.

"No," Maura said in a soft voice. "I won't fall asleep."

Famous last words.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading! I do it all for you, people. Reviews are deeply appreciated!


	13. Looking for Orion

Korsak almost couldn't believe his eyes.

After Jane's father had passed away, the Sheriff had taken it upon himself to make the Rizzoli home part of his nightly rounds. It was very important to him that Jane and the boys feel like they could count on him, like they were safe. But it seemed that no matter what he said, no matter how earnestly he tried to cajole her, Korsak could never get Jane to consent to fall asleep. Maybe she slept in the early hours of the morning, sometime after three or four, by which time the Sheriff himself had had to turn in. He would pass by their little ramshackle house before and after midnight, and fourteen-year-old Jane would always be sitting in the front room with a rifle in her lap, ready to strike. She and Korsak would chew the fat for a while, she would politely decline his invitations to take over the watch for her, and he would eventually leave.

Frost had told him that when he and Jane were out in the country, they took turns on watch. They would sleep on opposite sides of their campfire, but even when Jane wasn't on watch, she was constantly stirring. If Frost chanced a look at her, she looked tortured, upset, sick. Like she could never get a break, even in sleep. He never had to shake her to get her up, because she was a light sleeper, as if her subconscious wouldn't allow her guard to go ever really go down.

But that wasn't what Korsak was seeing right now. _I lost my mind. It finally happened. This can't be real_.

Jane was curled up on a blanket by the creek with none other than Maura Isles at her side, both of them clearly in a deep sleep. By the light of his kerosene lantern he could see that Jane's countenance was perfectly smooth and relaxed. Lying there, looking so tranquil and untroubled, she could have been anyone. Just a girl from the west who stayed out too late one night. Not Jake Wyatt. Not rough-and-tumble Rizzoli. Just Jane. Korsak's heart took another leap at noticing that one of Jane's hands was bare, lying perilously close to one of Maura's, as if they had fallen asleep holding hands (which wasn't the case, but was a nice thought all the same). As far as Korsak knew, nobody had seen Jane's hands since the night they were punctured, nearly destroyed. How, after only two days, had this newcomer Maura earned the trust required to see them? That didn't matter—all that mattered was that Jane looked more at peace than he had ever seen her, and that sight alone made the gruff old Sheriff about ready to weep.

But he couldn't put this off. The fact that Maura Isles had not come back to the boarding house that night hadn't gone unnoticed, and at eleven o'clock, Melody had come running to Korsak's office to ask his help. She had yet to alert Mr. Fairfield, as she refused to believe the worst yet (and wanted to stave off incurring his wealthy wrath as long as possible). Korsak had a suspicion that since Jane hadn't come to collect Jo yet, the two women might be together, although what they would be doing at this hour was beyond him. _Sleeping, of course_. Jo had impressively led him right to them, and even more impressively remained quiet, as if she recognized that her owner did not want to be disturbed.

In fact Jo only protested by growling lightly when Korsak put down the lantern and gently shook Jane's shoulder. "Jane." He exerted a bit more pressure. "Jane."

Fortunately he was ready when she woke up, as her first instinct was to lash out. He grabbed her by the wrist, and watched as her expression softened upon recognizing him.

"Korsak?" she asked, her voice hoarse with tiredness. "What're ya…" She sat up groggily and noticed Maura asleep next to her, looking as though she were smiling. The evening they had shared seeped slowly back into her consciousness, and Jane stared back up at the starry sky before looking at Korsak. "Whoops. Guess we fell asleep."

"Guess so," Korsak sighed. "Melody was at her wit's end when Dr. Isles didn't come back to the boarding house." Jane swore under her breath and Korsak continued: "Wake her up, Jane, we've got to take her back."

Jane looked down at Maura, who still appeared to be in a deep sleep. She resisted the urge to reach over and tuck a stray strand of hair behind the woman's ear. "Ain't she beautiful?" Jane murmured. "Ain't she the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" When Korsak merely grunted his assent, Jane said, "She don't belong out here." Her hand was hovering near Maura's face, and Jane realized it was bare. She quickly grabbed the glove which was in her pocket, glancing at Korsak and knowing he had seen.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, and she knew what he meant.

"She didn't feel it," Jane muttered, stuffing the glove back on. "The scar. Didn't see it, neither. I just wanted to touch her, Korsak," she admitted softly. "Stupid, I know. But she's… different. Different from anything we got out here, different from anything I've ever been around. She represents everything I've never known and everything I'll never have. Guess I just wanted to see what all that would feel like."

Clearly she was uncomfortable sharing this information, and Korsak further honored the awkwardness by not acknowledging it. "Do you want to wake her up, or shall I?"

"Let me carry her," Jane breathed. "I don't wanna wake her up if I don't have to… she looks like an angel asleep like that, don't you think?"

"She sure does," Korsak said softly. He clapped Jane on the shoulder and said, "If you think you can manage it, I'll go ahead and tell Melody Maura's all right, and that you're bringing her back. Stop by the station once you leave, okay? Come on, Jo." He set off, and after receiving an encouraging nod from Jane, the dog followed.

Jane was now kneeling next to Maura's slumbering figure, wondering how best to go about this. She really did hate the idea of disturbing Maura, and was surprised that her conversation with Korsak hadn't woken her—physical contact might be pushing it. But it was worth a shot, right? Besides, Maura was wearing so many layers she probably wouldn't even have felt it if a coyote came up and fell asleep on her. With this in mind, for the second time that day, Jane tucked one arm under Maura's knees and the other under her shoulder blades. With great effort to remain as steady as possible, Jane straightened up, lifting with her back. Once she was on her feet she checked to see whether Maura was still sleeping or not—it appeared as though she was largely undisturbed, aside from her right arm, which was hanging down. Jane took a cautious step and the arm swung slightly, but Maura remained asleep.

_Okay, then. Nice and slow…_

After another step, Jane courageously attempted to shift Maura so that her head wasn't lolling back (as that was bound to wake her up soon), and she miraculously managed to modify the woman's position enough so that her head could rest against Jane's chest.

This was a tad more difficult than when Jane had done it earlier in the day, because Maura had been alert and helping her then, but mostly because it had been such a short trip. The boarding house was a ways away, but Jane didn't really mind the distance; she only hoped she could manage to keep Maura asleep. It was pretty dark outside, but as the moon was exceptionally full that night, Jane didn't have any trouble finding her way. She reminisced about the day, her emotions seeming to shift with each step.

Seeing Giovanni again had not been particularly fun. Letting Maura drive to the general store had been nauseating. Carrying her over a puddle had felt puzzlingly …_right_, somehow. Looking at the expression of the clerk who sold her the medical merchandise had been rewarding. Pretending to be her fiancé to stop Giovanni from further impropriety had been wickedly delightful.

_How'd you do this to me?_ Jane wondered, looking down at Maura's unconcerned face. _Usually when I'm in the Creek all I want to do is sleep, eat Angela's food, and mess around with Frankie and Tommy. But now all I can think about is stuff I want to show you, or things I want to teach you or learn from you, or …gosh, I ain't ever known anyone like you._

And that, she guessed, was the reason Maura fascinated—er, interested her so much. Beneath the obviously-intelligent surface, there was a childlike curiosity and naïveté that Maura possessed and Jane found oddly endearing. Normally she was bothered by people who couldn't keep up, but perhaps because of Maura's optimism and enthusiasm to learn and adapt to new customs, Jane was far from annoyed. She liked having someone to do things for, be it driving them to the next town or showing them an Arizona night sky for the first time. Most days she was surrounded only by strangers and Frost, who, as her companion, needed no instructions or introductions on her part. Her brothers had almost grown up without her, and though they clearly still loved her, didn't need her. A small part of Jane hoped and felt that Maura _did _appreciate her, without any familial obligation. Being appreciated—not feared or despised—was a refreshing feeling from a near-stranger. Although considering the secrets they had already shared, "stranger" no longer seemed an appropriate word to use, if it ever had been.

It was after this train of thought that Jane had finally reached the boarding house. _Yeesh, woman, you sleep like a baby! _she couldn't help thinking as she walked carefully inside. Melody had been waiting anxiously by the door, and seeing that Maura was asleep, nodded silently at Jane before letting her pass. Up the stairs slowly, down the hall, and Jane nudged Maura's bedroom door open, praying it wouldn't creak too loudly. It agreeably remained silent, but when Jane walked over to the bed, she was faced with another problem.

Maura probably would hate the thought of dirtying her sheets by keeping her shoes on, but there was no way Jane could take those off without waking the woman up. Ultimately she decided there was nothing she could really do, so—mostly in order to give her back a break—she gave up and deposited Maura as gently onto the bed as she could. Immediately upon making contact with the sheets, Maura sighed dreamily and Jane held her breath, fearing that those hazel eyes would finally flutter open. But they remained closed, and Maura rolled onto her side, looking very pleased about something.

Jane turned to leave and spotted a sheaf of paper on Maura's desk with a nib pen on top of it. Considering that the sheets were unbound, Jane guessed that Maura had been in the middle of writing a letter, not a diary entry. She wanted to leave some kind of note, in case Maura woke up and wondered how she had gotten home. Excited by the prospect, Jane walked over to the desk only to remember how lousy she was at writing.

_Aw, what would I say anyway? Sorry we fell asleep …I hope you're not upset …I carried you back …thanks for a great day. _All the words were making her head spin. She held the pen over a blank sheet of paper and found herself unable to even remember how to spell the word "thanks." Was there an "x" in there? _Oh, she'd think I'm so stupid if I didn't spell something right_. So to play it safe, she merely wrote _Jane _in large letters, careful to make them legible. Once the ink had dried, she placed the note on Maura's nightstand.

_There's more I could have said. Sorry your horse's hooves look so embarrassing. Sorry I had to pretend to be your fiancé; I bet that made you uncomfortable even if you laughed about it at the time. Sorry Giovanni's an embarrassment to his parents' homeland and couldn't speak Italian to you even if you'd wanted him to_.

Jane walked back to the door, and before closing it behind her, whispered "Ciao, bella."

A few minutes later she reached Korsak's, and he was sitting at the table with a bottle of whiskey in front of him. He wordlessly handed a glass to Jane, and she silently took it, downing it in one gulp.

"Okay, Korsak," she said, sitting down. "Tell me why I needed that."

"I been trying to figure out all day whether I should tell you this or not," Korsak sighed. "You looked real happy taking Dr. Isles around, and it's been great to have you back."

"Where is he?"

Korsak gave her a weary look. "It's just a tip, Jane."

"Where is he?" she repeated, sounding more grave.

With a defeated sigh, Korsak said, "Grant told me this afternoon about something he heard in a letter from Dr. Byron today. You know he's been in Powell County, up in Payson? Said there was a terrible scandal in the next town over. Husband and wife murdered."

"And the wife was…"

"Assaulted first, yes."

Jane poured another glass of whiskey and downed it. "If it's him, he's close, Korsak. I gotta look. Frost and I've got to look."

"Let it go, Jane," he pleaded quietly. "Let somebody else get him. Live your life."

"He is my life," Jane growled. "I got nothin' because of him."

"It's been too long, Janie. For all you know, it could be another copier."

"Then let me find out if that's the case."

"He could be dead! He could've gone and circled back any of the places you and Frost have already—"

"Dammit, Korsak, I know!" Jane yelled, standing up and knocking the near-empty whiskey bottle off the table. "You think I don't ponder that kind of stuff all the time? You don't think it haunts me, thinking of the possibilities that he might not be here anymore? That he could be dead, or livin' on an island some place, or always on the move? But Frost and I hear word, we hear clues, and we can't stop. You don't know what it's like, Korsak. You don't know. Frost thought he had it made, he was a boy, a kid, like me. His parents were free, they were all free! And then that—that _monster_ came and he ruined everything! And Korsak…" She inhaled deeply, trying to stop herself from further hysterics, gripping the back of her chair and staring down at the floor. "You know my parents weren't an exception. Not really."

"What d'you mean?" Korsak asked.

Jane looked up at him. "You been trying to protect me and my brothers all these years. I know what happened. I don't want the boys to know."

"What're you on about, Jane?"

A mirthless laugh escaped her. "How d'you think Frost and I come to figure out we were after the same person?"

"The scars—the scars on your hand, he said his mother had the same ones…"

As his voice trailed off weakly, Jane just shook her head. "You know my mother didn't die giving birth to Tommy, same as my dad knew it." She sank wearily back down into her chair. The time had finally come to tell Korsak, perhaps aided by the whiskey and her already agitated state. "I told you …I already told you most of what happened that night. But you gotta know Korsak, you gotta know why I can't stop till I know he's dead." Jane caught Korsak's eye again, taking in his grim expression and knowing her own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "He told me. After he'd nailed me down, he told me… he said he did it just a few days after Tommy'd been born. He'd had his eye on our mother a long time, and when he got back and saw my dad wasn't home to see it, he was disappointed but he couldn't wait no more. So he took her right there, and then he killed her. That night when he killed my father, he told me—he thought it'd be a fun change to make the husband suffer a while longer. Ten years longer in this case. And this time… this time, as the wife was already dead, he'd take the daughter instead."

"Jane…"

"Can't you see, Korsak? I can't let him get away with it. I gotta kill him."

"Bring him to me if you find him."

"No. I'll kill him. With my bare hands, if I have to."

"Jane, it ain't right what he done, but—"

"But nothin', Korsak! I ain't ever killed a man that didn't try and kill me first, on the draw. That's what this man did. He's just had fifteen years to gloat about it."

"Don't you see what these territories could be, Jane? Don't you know that all the crazy excitement you thrive on only brings out the very fringes of decent society, and is _exactly _what keeps away the rest? Don't you want more people like Maura Isles here, don't you want this place to be safe for people like her?"

"Sure I do, that's how come I wanna get rid of him!"

"You don't have to kill him, Jane."

"I do. I just won't do it here, not in your town, Sheriff. Now if you'll excuse me—"

Korsak swiftly stood up and blocked Jane's path to the door. "No. You ain't leavin' here without saying goodbye to Angela and the boys."

"Frost and I've gotta leave now, Korsak. And I ain't wakin' 'em up."

"Then you gotta promise me, Jane. With you and Frost on horseback, it's probably a two day trip to Payson at best, three and a half tops. I understand you'll want to sweep the area, too, so I'd factor in a week and a half for that. If you don't find him, you come back here within the month, or I swear on all that is holy…"

Jane felt up to the challenge. "You'll do what, Korsak?"

"I will tell Frankie and Tommy that you are Jake Wyatt."

"You won't."

"The hell I won't! I'd thrown in Angela as well if I didn't want to have to arrest myself on manslaughter charges. It'd kill her to know. If Frankie and Tommy find out, they won't ever let you alone, and I'm sure Tommy will just ask to take your place."

"Why the hell are you threatening me?" Jane growled, taking an aggressive step towards Korsak.

"You been in town _two days_, Jane, after being gone _five years_. That's the shortest trip I've ever heard of, following the longest amount of time you've ever been away. It's too much to ask your family to take without promising to be back at least by the Thanksgiving holiday."

"Thanksgiving," Jane snorted. "I forgot about that blasted thing."

"Yes, well, we like to celebrate it in civilized society," Korsak said pointedly. "And so help me, Jane, you will be here. I haven't spoken a word about you and Frost in fifteen years, not a word. I have lied to Angela's face and your brothers' faces repeatedly on your behalf. It's about time you did something for them and for me in return, you understand? You come back here before the last Thursday in November. I'll let your conscience dictate how long you stay, but you will be back. You know I'm a man of my word, Jane. If you're not here, I can't be held accountable for what your brothers find out."

Jane stared him down, grimacing darkly. He stood his ground, arms folded, staring determinedly back. He didn't even flinch when Jane moved menacingly for her gun, knowing it was an empty move. Gritting her teeth, Jane said, "Fine, old man. You win. We'll be back if we don't find him."

"You won't be sorry, Jane," Korsak said when she was already at the door. "It'll do you good to stay here a while. It doesn't have to be up to you to stop him, you know."

"It should be," she muttered. "Take care of Jo for me."

"I will. What should I tell Angela this time?"

"Got some paper? Take a letter," Jane said. When Korsak frowned, she said, "What? This way you can give it to her and she can read it in the morning instead of having to wait days to hear from me." She crossed her eyes and waited until Korsak was again seated, ready to write: "Dear Ma. Sorry to leave so fast, but Frost and I found out his old girl might be livin' nearby, and we're going to check it out. They might be fixin' to get married, and as I'm Frost's only friend, I thought it'd be a good idea to go along as his witness at least. We'll be back soon, I promise. Love, Jane." She stopped pacing and looked up to see Korsak finish up his scribbling. "Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

With that, Jane shut the door of the station shut after her and saw Frost sitting on the porch. Their horses were standing quietly there as well, saddlebags nearly weighing them down. Jane and Frost exchanged a grim look as he stood up, tacitly conveying how much they both hated to leave but felt obligated to do so. If this murderer had been in Payson only a few days ago, he couldn't have gone far …if it was really him. They had to give it a shot.

They rode off into the night, neither sparing a glance for the little town that wanted only to keep them forever.

**The Next Morning**…

Maura rarely remembered her dreams. Part of that may have been repression at work, because having grown up with so much reverence for physicality—things she could see and name—the subconscious was a slippery area she did not revel in. What did it all mean? When she woke up that morning, before she opened her eyes, Maura's mind was swimming in indistinct, fuzzy memories. _Charles…Jane… stars… _how much of that had happened, and what all had been a dream? All she knew for sure was that she was smiling to herself when her eyes finally opened.

It took her a moment to place why she felt a little disoriented. Here she was in her room, but… why was she fully dressed? Even her shoes were still on! With a small gasp, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She frowned at the sight of the small dirty mess her shoes had left on the bed, but frowned even more at the realization that she had no recollection of coming back here last night. Besides, if she had, she certainly would have put on a nightdress. _I must have fallen asleep with Jane by the creek! Oh, my…_ _so how did I get here?_

This was answered when she turned and saw the one-word note Jane had left on her nightstand. Maura picked it up and traced her hand over the four letters Jane had painstakingly written out and underlined. A faint smile graced her lips again as she figured Jane had carried her back. To her parents' great amusement, Maura had always been an incredibly deep sleeper (something that had occurred to her mother one morning in France when Maura had slept right through an impromptu clarinet-and-tambourine concerto on the balcony adjacent to her room). Leaning back onto her pillows, Maura rubbed her arms, trying to imagine what it would have felt like to be carried all the way back from the creek by Jane. If she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, she could picture it, she could smell it… Jane's stoic expression, the woodsy musk Maura had come to associate with her…

"_What's going on?"_

"_Sh, Maura, it's all right. We fell asleep. I'm just taking you back."_

_Maura sighed and buried her face into Jane, lazily draping an arm around her shoulder. "Oh…okay."_

Why was she giving this so much thought?

Whatever the case was, it would be only fitting to seek Jane out and thank her. Not only for bringing her back to the boarding house, but for helping her get to Green Forge, deal with Giovanni, and that beautiful stargazing. Maura changed into a new dress and went downstairs for breakfast, where she was greeted instantly by Melody.

"Miss Isles! So nice to have you back."

"Oh dear," Maura said with a tired smile. "I hope I didn't worry you too much last night. I fell asleep and wasn't expecting to."

"I know," Melody said. "Jane brought you back, which was only fitting as I suppose it's her fault you were out at all."

"No, the fault was mine, really," Maura insisted. "Jane only wanted to show me—well, the night sky. I couldn't quite appreciate it from my room We got to talking, and then just looking at the stars, and I… well, I fell asleep. Awfully silly, I know, but would you mind not telling Mr. Fairfield about it?"

"He'll not hear it from me, Miss Isles."

"Thank you."

After eating, Maura decided to set out for Angela's saloon. She figured there was a good chance Jane would be there, and if not, the proprietress might be of help (otherwise, the Sheriff would be her next course). When she saw Jo rolling around in the dirt outside the saloon, Maura happily took it as a sign that the dog's owner would be inside, so she was surprised when she stepped in through the women's entrance and noticed it was practically empty. In fact the only people there were Angela, Jane's brothers, and Sheriff Korsak.

"Oh, Dr. Isles!" said Angela, standing behind the bar and appearing rather emotional. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Maura returned slowly, her eyes sweeping across the bar again as if she might see Jane this time. "Oh, how silly of me. You aren't open yet."

"No, but please stay," Angela sniffed.

"Angela, are you…" Maura looked to the three men in the establishment, hoping one of them might explain why the woman looked so upset. "Are you all right?"

"Jane skipped town again," Tommy snorted.

It felt as though a stone had just been dropped into Maura's stomach. "What? Why?"

"Who knows? She does whatever the hell she wants," Tommy said.

Frankie slapped him upside the head. "That's our sister you're talking about, and this is a lady you're using that language in front of." Turning to Maura, he said, "Somethin' came up with Frost, and she went to help him out. Dunno why it couldn't wait until _daytime_, but there you have it." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "She said she'd be back soon."

"When's she ever come back soon?" Angela asked. "When's she ever said goodbye?"

"She'll be back," Korsak said heavily. "She left Jo here, didn't she?"

"Oh sure, she left that mutt, so she'll be comin' back for it!" Angela said. "Doesn't give a hang about her brothers or the woman who practically _raised _her, but she'll be sure not to leave that _dog _alone too long!" With a frustrated noise, she caught Maura's eye and apologetically said, "Dr. Isles, I shouldn't have encouraged you and Jane to become friends. She always does this. She always gets up and leaves. You can't get too close to her, 'cause she'll break your heart. She may care, but she won't care enough to stick around."

None of them were sure why Maura looked quite so hurt. She turned to Korsak, as if a recognized authority figure had the power to contradict the rather depressing thing Angela had just said. "Sheriff?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid Angela's got a point. Just don't hold it against her, all right? They all know," he said, nodding at Angela and the boys, "that Jane's seen and gone through things no one should ever have to. We can't expect her to have turned out entirely …normal."

As Korsak headed for the double doors, Tommy said, "Hey, it was our dad too that got killed. We turned out all right."

"Excuse me," Korsak said, turning again but addressing Maura. "I should have said they all _have an idea_ what Jane went through. They don't know." And with that, he left.

Maura made to go after him, hoping he could give her more details, but Tommy stepped in front of her. "Hey Dr. Isles, I was thinkin'. Do you like to play chess? Frankie's got no patience for it and Ma's not got the time. I'd sure like to show my appreciation for you fixin' my lip the other day. Let me play you a game?"

"Please stay, Dr. Isles," Angela said. "It'd be a load off my mind."

Though hesitant at first, Maura finally sat at the table Tommy was gesturing to. "Certainly, I'd love to."

* * *

><p>That night, Jane was taking the first watch. Frost had just finished making a fire and was already sound asleep as Jane rolled out her blanket and stared up at the stars. She wished she hadn't been in such a rush to get out of town, because then she might've thought to leave some kind of word for Maura. Not that she'd know what to say, or that anything would have even been necessary or expected. But due to their early start, she and Frost had nearly made it to Powell County, and would be able to start searching tomorrow morning. In a couple of days she would enlist Frost's help in writing a letter to Angela, as she always did, not really caring that she needed someone else's help to accomplish this seemingly basic task. But for the first time, that night, she found herself wishing she could write well enough to send her own letter. Not to Angela, but to Maura.<p>

She didn't care if Frost knew what she'd say to Angela, but for some reason, Jane wanted any correspondence with Maura to remain private. What she had to say sounded silly in her own head, so she could only imagine what Frost might've thought of it. Besides, he didn't know Maura very well, and neither did Jane, really. He might find it odd that Jane wanted to say all this to her—because as she lay there, alert and on guard for trouble, Jane couldn't help thinking out exactly what she would write to Maura if she could:

_Dear Maura,_

_Firstly I want to apologize for getting up and leaving town without saying goodbye. I've had a lot of real fun with you that I would never expect to get with a lady like yourself. I never met a woman like you before—you're different, you're interesting. Thanks for putting up with my unsophisticated ways and my roundabout way of doing things. Thanks for coming out with me at night, and letting me show you the sky. Thanks for teaching me about the constellations. I'm sorry we both fell asleep, and I hope you don't mind I brought you back to your bedroom without removing your shoes. All the snaps and buttons were confusing!_

_Even though there's a purpose to what Frost and I are doing right now, part of me wishes I was still in the Creek with you. I want to know what you're doing today, and who you're doing it with. I want to make sure my brothers are treating you nice and that Korsak's helping you out and that Mr. Fairfield's making time for you. It's funny. I usually don't miss home this much when I leave. But I'm worried what you think about me, just getting up and leaving like this. I wish I'd left you a note. You've been on my mind all day. There's still so much I want to show you, so much I want to do with you, so much I'm sure I could learn from you._

_Please don't give up on me. I'll be coming back by the end of the month, and I want to still be friends when I do. Don't think I've abandoned you. I think I've always taken for granted that Angela and my brothers will be there and be happy to see me whenever I come back, so even though I hate worrying them, I don't ever have to be afraid they'll grow __too__ upset with me, or get so angry they'll never speak to me again. There's an obligation with family. But you don't have an obligation to me, so every move I make really counts. If this was something I could help, I wouldn't have run off. I already miss being with you. I hope you still want to see me when I get back to Hollow Creek._

_Yours truly, Jane_

She sighed dejectedly, wondering how much of an awful person she really was. For the first time, she was really wondering how much it was worth it to follow this guy—her gut instinct was always to follow up on leads, but right now, she was wishing she had stayed behind in the Creek, with her family, with Maura. Who knew what could happen in a month's time? By then, Maura would surely have adjusted to the town, made new friends who were actually in her class… she wouldn't need Jane anymore, not at all.

Every night she was gone, Jane looked up at the stars and tried to find Orion, not knowing that Maura did the same. As Jane lay on her back and stared upwards from the campfire, Maura leaned out her window with Bass at her side, as she wondered whether she would ever see that ragged frontier woman again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading, everyone! And thank you also for your awesome, detailed reviews. It's the best reward for the work that goes into writing this (because trust me, it IS work. Albeit work that I love). And don't worry, the Rizzles-ness will continue despite their momentary separation.  
>(also, I just remembered that while the Thanksgiving holiday existed in this time period, it wasn't firmly established to be annually celebrated at the same time in November until the 1940s! Whoops. I'm going to stick with it, though.)<p> 


	14. Playing With Fire

**A/N**: First of all, I'd like to explain that Dr. Byron _is _actually supposed to be Dr. Byron Sluckey, but I hate the name Sluckey/think it's kinda stupid, so I didn't want to use it. If you suspected that's who I meant, thank you for not correcting me.

* * *

><p>By the third week of November, Maura Isles had fast become a household name in the tri-county area. She hadn't travelled with Dr. Byron farther than Wohaw Springs, but her reputation had spread like wildfire through word of mouth. Men thought it was charming to have such a lovely doctor, and then were always left deeply impressed with the abilities Dr. Byron was so happy to let her showcase. Women, on the other hand, found it an unspeakable comfort to have a lady doctor nearby—especially when it came to childbirth. Maura was no expert, but she had helped bring thirteen new souls into the world, kicking and screaming. (The babies, that is. Although often the mothers kicked and screamed as well—Maura had so many scrapes and bruises on her that Garrett sometimes asked if she got into scuffles with Comanches on her way back from work.)<p>

She was also coming to respect Tommy more. Upon first meeting him, she had gotten the impression that he was a bit of a rascal, but ever since Jane's unexpected departure, he had been nothing but kind and open with her. They played chess nearly every day, with Jo sitting by Maura's feet and Angela telling off some drunkard in the background. Frankie tried to be on hand whenever he could for these games, because he wasn't sure how he felt about an engaged woman playing chess with his troublemaker brother. But he figured Maura seemed to know what she was doing, and that if things ever got out of hand… well, Korsak could finally have an excuse to give Tommy a stint in a cell, something Frankie often thought would do the scamp good.

But Frankie knew had no place to tell Maura what she ought to be doing if her own fiancé was fine with it. And, to general surprise, Garrett thought the Rizzoli boys were great. His main reason for believing this was that when he had introduced the sport of Massachusetts baseball to the men in Hollow Creek, he was met with general enthusiasm, but Tommy and Frankie were clear born players. Games were always more exciting when they were involved, and their unmatched abilities easily won them the hard-earned respect of Garrett Fairfield. Though he knew very little of them off the makeshift baseball diamond, he took their good sportsmanship as a sign of their respectability, and resultantly felt more than comfortable allowing Maura to spend time with them.

After one exceptionally close chess game that finally ended with Tommy's victory, Maura laughed and said, "I have to say, Tommy, it's been such a pleasure discovering that people out here enjoy this game."

"Ah, we may act like an uncivilized bunch of hooligans half the time, but that don't keep us from remembering our manners now and then," said Tommy. He gestured to the board. "Chess is a gentleman's game. Gotta make up for the fact that I never got a good education, like I bet all those guys back in Boston have."

"A lack of formal education doesn't make a person unintelligent," Maura said. "Chess is a difficult game, and playing it as well as you do indicates a brilliant mind."

He grinned. "Brilliant, huh? You hear that Frankie?" he called. "The doctor says I'm brilliant!"

"Well _there's_ a first," said Frankie from his position at the bar, where he was working on his card shuffling. "Dr. Isles, you shouldn't encourage him."

"I don't think there's ever anything wrong with a little encouragement," Maura said, smiling innocently enough at Tommy.

Frankie did not share this sentiment, and was about to say so when Korsak suddenly entered the saloon, waving an envelope. The brothers rushed over together, not even saying hello before practically tearing the thing out of Korsak's hand. Angela ran over as well, reading the letter over Frankie's shoulder as Tommy bugged one of them to read it out loud. Angela finally obligated to help out, impatiently snatching the letter away from Frankie, holding it aloft and reading it aloud:

"'_Dear Angela, Frankie, and Tommy – turns out Frost's girl has gone and got herself a husband!_' Oh dear, ain't that something? '_Luckily he's a very nice fellow from Georgia and he treats her nice. We've just been getting acquainted, but I suppose we ought to be heading back soon. In fact, she invited us to spend Thanksgiving with them, but I said we already had plans back at Hollow Creek._' Oh, boys! She'll be coming home for the holiday!"

"Gosh," Frankie laughed. "Can't remember the last time she's been here for one of those!"

Angela finished the letter: "'_I hope you've been treating Jo good and spending time with Dr. Isles if she's had time to hang around._'" All three of them looked over at Maura, whose heart had taken an uncomfortable leap at the sound of her name and the thought that Jane had bothered to mention her. "'_I also hope you know I've missed you and am excited to be seeing you again soon. Much love, Jane._'"

"Gee, that's the second letter we've got in less than a month," Tommy calculated. "They must be close by."

"I wonder why she didn't tell us where she'd gone?" Angela said with a frown, turning over the paper as if hoping to see a stamp or other indicator of their location.

"Dr. Isles, can I have a word?" Korsak asked, and Maura only just realized he had been purposefully hanging by the door. She bid farewell to Angela and the boys, then curiously followed the Sheriff back outside. After leading her around the side of the building, he pulled another envelope out of his inside coat pocket. Opening it with a flourish, he missed the look of anticipation on Maura's face as she hoped maybe this was a letter intended for her. "Wanted to share something with you," Korsak said, taking out his glasses. "This is from Jane. I'm not sure how much of this she wanted me to tell you, but I'm using my own discretion. Let's see …oh, yes." He cleared his throat. "'…_you'll be glad to know that Jake is being pretty careful these days, or at least so far. We think_…' Oh, hold on, let me find it… '_Do you see much of Dr. Isles these days? How's she getting along? I have to admit I took a fast liking to her and almost regret taking off so fast, because she seemed to appreciate my help. If you see her, tell her I said hello, and I hope she'll be willing to talk at least a little when I get back at Thanksgiving._'"

"Why doesn't she think I would talk to her?" Maura asked.

Korsak shrugged, folding the letter and stowing it again. "On account of how fast she left, without saying goodbye."

"Oh." _That's a fair point_. "Sheriff, if Jane can't read, how can she write those letters?"

"She doesn't," Korsak said. "Frost does. I mean, Jane tells him what to say, of course, but he actually puts them on paper. So?"

"So what?"

"You gonna talk to her when she gets back?"

Maura frowned. "Is there any reason I should?"

"She likes you. That don't happen often."

"Then why'd she…" Maura sighed, folding her arms because she didn't know what else to do with them. "How could she just take off the way she did? Sheriff, where is she _really?_"

"Ain't my place to tell ya that," Korsak said. "You want to know these things, you ask Jane yourself. I get the impression that with a little work on your part, she'd tell you just about anything you'd like to know."

And as Korsak walked away, Maura had to admit she was frustrated. She had been good at keeping busy with work and with Garrett, but if she were to be totally honest with herself, her thoughts drifted back to Jane more than she would have expected. It felt as though her feelings kept changing: she was annoyed at Jane one minute for leaving without saying goodbye, but then felt that if this was a commonplace thing for Jane to do for her own _family_, why should it be any different for a woman she had just met? Where had she gone, what was she doing? Why did Maura feel like she had a right to know the answer to these things? She and Jane had only known each other two days… still, those had been Maura's first two days out in this new terrain. Maybe that's why an attachment had formed so quickly, and why it felt like Hollow Creek was empty without her.

_I wonder what Jane's doing right now…_

Actually, the proper thing to think would be what _Jake _was doing right now. After days of futile leads, the only thing Frost and Jane knew for sure was that the murderer had slipped away. It wasn't until the third week of their venture that they picked up his trail again, and Jane, in her trusty disguise, sauntered into a bar feeling more confident than usual. The previous night, they had gotten a tip about a shady, older man who had taken to loitering outside the women's entrances to saloons, occasionally walking behind ones he saw leaving with weak-looking men. His name was Stark, and the bar Jane was currently sitting at was apparently one he'd been frequenting lately. Frost was outside scanning the crowds of people passing or walking in, keeping the physical description of Stark in his head and talking to anyone who fit it. Then he'd lead him inside and give Jane the heads-up.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

Jane glanced up at the barmaid who was standing in front of her, and she nearly jumped. This woman looked remarkably like Maura Isles: same hair color and length, and even a similar looking nose. But her eyes were a bright blue. Lovely in their own right, but nowhere near as warm as Maura's hazel ones. If Jane still looked startled, the woman didn't seem to notice, as she herself was coming to her own realization.

"Are you…?" she asked slowly, cutting herself off as she didn't know whether or not she should keep going.

With a knowing wink, Jane said, "Thirsty? Yes, ma'am. I'll take a rye whiskey."

"Yes, sir," she said in a weak voice, quickly getting the drink. She took a shot herself to get the nerves she sorely needed to talk again. Once she came back, handing Jane the glass, she said, "If you'll allow me to say so, those wanted posters don't half do you justice."

"Why thank you," Jane said before taking a long drink.

The girl curiously folded her arms on the bar and continued to stare at Jane. "You're not even trying to disguise who you are. How come you never been caught?"

"Oh, people have tried, Miss…"

"Scarlett."

Jane smiled. "Scarlett. But they all know there ain't no reward high enough for the trouble of messin' with me. You see that cricket bug right there?" she asked, nodding at a cricket on the floor a few feet away. Scarlett nodded, and Jane pulled a knife out of her shirt pocket. With a casual flick of the wrist, the knife sliced through its insect target and hit the wood floor with an ominous thud. The barmaid gasped, as did a few other people in the bar who couldn't help noticing someone had just thrown a knife. Scarlett's eyes were wide and a smile tugged at her open lips, clearly impressed. "You think that's somethin', you oughtta see me with a gun," Jane said over her glass before finishing off the drink.

"Really?" Scarlett asked, raising an eyebrow.

With a smirk, Jane said "yeah" in the huskiest voice she could muster.

Scarlett bit her lip, looking around to make sure no one could hear what she was about to say. Jake Wyatt usually had one of two effects on people: they swarmed him like moths to a rogue, mysterious flame, or they gave him as much space as possible, out of fear. The latter was the case in this particular bar, possibly not surprising because it was only the afternoon, and the more rowdy customers had yet to really arrive.

"I have a proposition for you," Scarlett whispered. Jane leaned in closer. Typically she understood this to mean "let's go have sex," but something told her Scarlett was after more than that. Clearly pleased that she had aroused Jane's interest, Scarlett said, "Meet me behind the building on the hour? We can go someplace a little more… private."

"I'll be there," Jane said before holding up her empty glass. "Top me off?"

"On the house."

About twenty minutes later, Jane casually exited the bar, leaning against the outer wall near the spot where Frost was sitting. She lit up a cigar and started to smoke it, and when she spoke, she barely moved her lips. Anyone walking by would never have assumed she was talking to Frost. Pulling down the brim of her hat and inclining her head also helped insure a relatively low profile.

"No dice, huh?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Think I may have something."

"Yeah?"

Jane took a long draw and puffed out a ring of smoke. "Girl at the bar."

"Girls at bars _always _talk to you, Jake."

"Yeah, but I think this one's different. She seemed …I dunno how to put it, exactly. Anyway, might be somethin'. I'm meeting her in five minutes."

"And what're you aimin' to do, exactly?"

"See if she knows anything."

"Uh-_huh_…and through what means?"

"Whatever seems appropriate."

Frost frowned and stole a glance up at Jane. She kept her eyes on a tiny lizard making his way across the dirt and under a rock. "Ain't ever got a tip from a woman before, Jake. They don't like to get involved. Wouldn't she be more open to sharing something with another woman?"

"No wonder you ain't married, Frost," Jane chuckled. "She'll want to impress me."

"_If _she knows anything."

"Yeah, I suppose. It'll be dark out soon, anyway."

"So…"

"Never mind."

At the appointed time, Jane waltzed around to the back of the bar just in time to see Scarlett stepping out of it. The sun was nearly set, but there was still enough light for Jane to be able to tell how shamelessly Scarlett was sizing her up. Her bright eyes lingered on the particularly noticeable bulge at Jane's crotch, which was there courtesy of a stuffed cotton sock. (It had been Frost's idea. After knowing Jane/Jake for a little under a year, he said the only reason he wouldn't buy Jane as a man was because in a certain light and in certain pants, it was evident that she was missing a certain male feature. They eventually settled on stuffing a sock made of cotton as an effective "up yours" to the plantation owners responsible for working Frost's grandparents to death. It took Jane a while to get used to, but it had now reached the point that she almost felt naked without it.) It was around this time that Jane noticed Scarlett's dress wasn't particularly modest, and in fact flaunted her ample chest quite a bit. She must have been staring at it quite a bit, because after a few moments, Scarlett said:

"Seems like we both see something we like. Why don't you follow me?"

Jane silently walked behind her, down a dusty pathway towards some barns. The clamor of the town got farther and farther away as the sky got darker and darker, until they had reached the last and most isolated barn. They ducked inside, and Scarlett picked up a pistol that was hanging on the nearest wall. She didn't have to say anything else or look over her shoulder to make sure Jane was watching; she knew she had the full attention of the person behind her. And Jane had to admit she was rather impressed when the woman took aim in near darkness and hit a hinge on the door of the wall opposite.

"Very nice," Jane said, her voice little more than a deep rumble.

Scarlett placed the pistol back on the wall and turned triumphantly to face Jane. "I noticed you been by yourself today."

"True."

"I'd like to offer my services to you."

"Services?"

"Don't be coy," Scarlett snickered, walking closer. She backed Jane up against the wall and slid her hands down Jane's sides before settling them on her waist. "I think we both know there's plenty I could do for you."

And before Jane could stop her or protest, Scarlett leaned in and kissed her neck. Jane breathed in sharply, suddenly painfully aware of every particle in her body, and all the more nervous because at the last second, her vision had tricked her again into thinking this woman was Maura Isles. Scarlett smirked to herself, sensing that she was making an impression; she let her hands run up Jane's back, digging her nails in and sucking on Jane's earlobe. Finally Jane came to her senses, and with a heavy exhale, put her hands on Scarlett's arms and pushed her away. The darkness hid the dark blush that had crept into her cheeks, but could do nothing to disguise the heaviness of her breathing.

"There's more where that came from," Scarlett said.

"What makes you any different?" Jane choked out.

"How do you mean?"

"I think you know I have women fallin' all over me everywhere I go," Jane said, and she managed to make it sound like a simple fact of life, not bragging. "I've had dozens try to get me to take them along with me. Why should I take you?"

"You saw me just now," Scarlett said, nodding behind her. "With that gun. That wasn't chance, Mr. Wyatt. I'm an expert."

"And? You think I don't know women who can shoot a gun? Hell, the other day I met one who was better with a bow and arrow than an Indian would be!"

"I've got experience," Scarlett said, her voice laced with confidence.

"What kind?" Jane asked.

Even though there was no one around, Scarlett lowered her voice, and it was clear how pleased she was with herself: "You hear about that couple over in Claire Valley?"

Jane's heart nearly stopped. "The husband and wife?"

"Yes."

"That was… that was you?"

"Well, yes and no. I helped… disable them. My partner did the raping."

Jane bristled at the casualness with which Scarlett flung that word around. "And you—you killed them, afterwards?"

"Mm-hm."

"Who's your partner?"

She laughed softly. "Oh, some puddin'-head named Stark. Don't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He needed help with his assignments."

"Assignments? From who?"

"Can't say I know his name; I think he changes it now and then. I don't think Stark's ever even seen him in person. He just sends out letters, and we get 'em."

"Letters from where? Around here?"

"Not sure. You'd have to ask Stark." It finally dawned on Scarlett that this wasn't really where she had been intending the conversation to go. "Why're you so curious? Do you know him?" When Jane didn't answer, Scarlett sighed and said, "Look. I figure if I'm gonna be some outlaw's apprentice, it may as well be one as young and handsome as you. I think it'd make things more interesting, don't you?" One of her hands started wandering towards Jane's belt, and that's what finally made her snap into action.

Grabbing one of Scarlett's wrists, Jane kicked the barn door back open again. "You're comin' with me."

Naturally Scarlett misread what was going on, although she should have suspected something was up when Jane led her straight back to town. Panic only startled to settle in when she realized Jane had brought her to the sheriff's office. "What're you doing?" she whispered.

Jane whirled around to face her, the vice grip on Scarlett's wrist making it impossible for her to pull away. "You live in right nice little town here, Scarlett," Jane said through her teeth. "And don't think I had no idea what it was your intention to do. Here's one thing I'd like to make very clear to you: I only kill men who deserve it. I ain't _ever _laid a hand on a woman, not a one. I prize every hair on their righteous heads. It makes me sick to think of one turnin' against her own kind." She shook her head in disgust. "You, miss, are no lady."

"Oh, and I suppose you're a gentleman?" she scoffed, trying (and failing) to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

In response to this, Jane said "Nope," and lifted her hat enough to take her hair of its restrictive bun, letting it fall to her shoulders. She also yanked off her goatee, leaving her only with the still very-masculine looking mustache. Ignoring Scarlett's clear shock and confusion, Jane said, "There is a stagecoach comin' at you. You can either be on it, or under it. You tell me how to find this Stark person, and I ain't gonna tell the Sheriff about your murdering ways."

"Uh…that's him right there, actually," Scarlett said, pointing. Jane twisted to look over her shoulder, and saw a tall, balding man being dragged up the stairs into the sheriff's office, making one heck of a racket. "He don't stay out of trouble easy," Scarlett sighed. "Half the letters he gets from his boss, he gets from in prison. Murder he can get away with, sure, but he's got a hell of a problem with brawls, and… well, like you said, this is a nice little town we got here."

"I'm sure," Jane growled, pulling Scarlett back into the main street and up the stairs of the office. "Sheriff!" she called. "Oh! And Reverend! How nice to have you here as well." The two authorities looked up from a paper they had been studying, and the Reverend had the decency to avert his eyes from the sight of Scarlett's immodest dress. "I thought you might be interested in knowing this woman from your town just tried soliciting my attention."

The sheriff raised his eyebrows. "Attention? Atten… oh! Oh, dear."

"Oh dear indeed."

Looking utterly betrayed, Scarlett tried again in vain to pull herself out of Jane's strong grip. "Don't look at _me!_" she barked to the Sheriff and the scandalized Reverend. "He's Jake Wyatt!"

"If you'll permit me," the Sheriff said, sparing a glance for Jane. "Jake Wyatt does not have long, flowing locks as nice as this man here. And he's got a beard, hasn't he?"

"And he's bigger, I thought," the Reverend mused. "Take no offense, my boy, you just seem a bit thin."

"None taken, sir, so long as you take care of this depraved soul," Jane said. The sheriff had his deputy come up and grab a hold of Scarlett's other arm, and Jane let go. "Let that be a lesson to you. Don't play with fire. You'll get burned." Once the kicking and wildly protesting girl had been dragged away, Jane turned back to the Sheriff. "If you'd oblige me, sir, I hear you've just brought in a man named Stark?"

"Yes sir, that's right."

"Can I see him? I'm a… I'm a friend of his sister's, and she's got a message for him."

"Oh. Well, certainly. Outside, last cell on the left."

Tipping her hat, Jane thanked him and walked back outdoors. She quickly pulled her hair back up and reapplied the goatee before heading down the row of cells. Stopping outside the last one, she said, "Stark?"

"Yeah?" he groaned, looking up. When he realized who was standing in front of him, he quickly got to his feet. Though he towered over Jane, he was clearly afraid and intimidated. "Jake Wyatt? What're you…?"

"I'll ask the questions if you don't mind," Jane said. "From what I understand, you been brought in here for a brawl, is that right?"

"Sure, a brawl," laughed a man close by. "A brawl what ended with murder."

"You kill someone?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Stark said in a dark whisper. "Why, you lookin' for help?"

Jane grabbed him by the collar and yanked him towards her, so that his face banged against his cell bars. "Husband and wife in Claire Valley. Your work?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, all bravado gone once again.

"Who're you takin' orders from? Who is your boss?"

Another man called out, "Whatsa matter, big Jake? Scared of a little competition?"

Still grasping Stark's collar, Jane turned and fired two bullets in the direction of the taunting voice. "Next man besides Stark who breathes so much as a word gets worse," she snarled before turning back to Stark. "Now let's try this again. Who do you work for? Your pal Scarlett already ratted you out. I know you're takin' orders from somebody."

"All right, so kill me!" Stark laughed. "Go ahead! I'll be locked in here the rest of my days. I don't got anything to live for anymore. You can't threaten me, Jake."

"Maybe not, but you ever think maybe I could break you outta here?" Jane said, keeping her voice low enough so that only Stark could hear it. He didn't seem very bright, but she had gotten his attention. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll get you out. But you'd better cooperate."

"Okay, okay," he said shakily. "I don't know his name; he changes it a lot. Last few letters he's gone by Stuart. He sends notes, see. And I follow up on 'em. In the last one he said he was comin' back towards Arizona."

"Where's he been?"

"Er…he's since moved on, but he's been in Pennsylvania."

"Pennsylvania? Out east?" _Good Lord, no wonder Frost and I haven't found him out here!_ "He said he's comin' back?"

"Yes! Yes, he's on his way. H-he'll write me again, and the letter'll be brought here, and I'll write and tell him I'm here. If he says where he is, I'll let you know!"

"You had better," Jane growled, tightening her grip. "Or so help me, I will hunt down every last person that was ever important to you and skin them alive."

"W-where do I send word?"

"To my good friend Charles Fairfield in Green Forge," Jane said. She finally let go of Stark's collar to pull a piece of paper out of her pocket where Frost had written Charles' name and the address of a post office box in Green Forge where they intended to create an account to a forwarding address in Hollow Creek. "You better believe me, Stark," she said seriously, handing him the slip of paper. "How often you hear from him?"

"Not regularly. Usually every two or three months."

Two or three months! It felt like an eternity, but compared to fifteen years, Jane was prepared to wait. "All right. I'll be back in three months, then, if I ain't heard from you. You got that, Stark?" He nodded weakly, and Jane finally turned to walk away. The other men were silent as she passed, and she tried to repress a smile. Eventually she saw Frost, who was waiting outside the Sheriff's office, and leapt up when he saw her.

"Jake, they just brought in Stark—"

"I know, I just talked to him."

"And? What'd he say?"

"He done it."

"Is it—?"

"No. Not quite. He's been takin' orders from him…said he goes by Stuart."

"Stuart? That's not the man who killed my parents."

"Stark said his name changes a lot. That's why he's been so hard to track down, Frost." With a weak laugh, she said, "He's been in _Pennsylvania_. But he's on his way back west, and trust me, Stark's gonna let me know when he gets here."

"So…so we got him."

"Getting there," Jane said, and the unwilling smile finally couldn't be retained. "Frost, we're close. Closer than I think we've ever been."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Now all's we gotta do is wait."

"We been waitin' fifteen years. I reckon we do it a bit longer, yeah?"

"I guess."

"Right." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Sorry this diverged from the Rizzles fluff! I really did miss writing that, but, you know, plot. It has to come somewhere. Fortunately, there is much more Rizzles on the way to make up for it! (I don't intend on separating them again any time soon.) And thanks for your reviews! You guys are awesome! :)


	15. The Worst Night

**A/N**: This chapter is sort of half-fluff, half-angsty backstory, so I hope this exposition isn't coming too soon. Fifteen chapters seemed like a good place to put it in. Also, when I originally conceived of this story, I was going to have Jane and Maura not get along at first. I like this a lot better :)

* * *

><p>Korsak kept meaning to hire a hand to take care of the horses at his corral, but somehow never got around to it. Most of the horses were his anyway, but he thought it would be nice to have someone around to brush and feed the ones he held for other people. As it was, this left Maura on her own one afternoon, giving Wind Whistler a much needed brushing. It dawned on Maura that she had never gotten attached to a horse like this, possibly because none of them had been quite as affectionate as Wind Whistler. She spent some time idly stroking its long nose before finally picking up one of the brushes in Korsak's barn and setting to work.<p>

As she brushed, she started singing softly to herself: "_Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes/ flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise/ my Mary's asleep by the murmuring stream/ Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream…_" The verses repeated the same melody, until after a point, Maura stopped singing and just kept humming the tune. It was around this time that she realized someone outside the barn was accompanying her on a mouth organ. Maura dropped the brush and hurried out the open door.

There she saw what she hadn't dared hoped for: Jane sitting against the outer wall of the barn, harmonica in hand, quite capably finishing off the verse of a tune she had heard for the first time a few minutes ago. When she saw that she had Maura's attention, Jane looked up. "Hi."

Maura still acted as though she was seeing a ghost. "Jane! You're—you're back!"

"Yeah," Jane said with a shrug, getting to her feet and pocketing the harmonica. She self-consciously brushed the dirt off the seat of her pants and seemed shy about meeting Maura's gaze. "I said I'd be back for the holiday. I don't care what anyone else tells ya—I don't ever break a promise if I can help it." When Maura didn't say anything to this and just continued to stand there like a guidepost, Jane awkwardly stuck her hands in her back pockets and asked, "So, you been good?"

"Where were you?" Maura asked softly.

She had been unable to hide the hurt in her voice, too focused on carefully studying Jane's countenance for any betrayal of emotion or a clue. Jane rubbed her nose and averted her gaze. "Didn't go far. I had a job to do."

"A job."

"Yes."

"Did you get him?"

"Who?"

"The man you and Frost are looking for. And don't get excited," Maura said, holding up a hand to halt the interruption Jane had clearly been about to make. "You told me that much the first time I met you. When I asked how you and Frost had met, you said you were both looking for the same person. So? Did you find him?"

Jane didn't even realize she was smiling when she asked, "You remembered that? From the first time we met?"

"Yes," Maura said, looking slightly affronted. "I have an excessively good memory, Jane."

"Oh." Still with a faint smile on her face, Jane traced a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot. "We didn't quite get him yet, no. But we got a good hint, and we're close. Now we just gotta wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

Jane idly rubbed the back of her neck. "News." With a shaky laugh, she added, "We ain't ever been so close. I just hope to God we're right this time."

"Who is he?" Maura asked.

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it anymore," Jane murmured, not wanting to sound angry but wanting to make a point. "Maura, I—I wanted to write ya, I swear. I wanted to see how you was gettin' along."

Pursing her lips, Maura said, "I'd have liked to have heard from you, but I understand I have no claim. I am not family, so why would you have written?"

"Because the night before I left, I took you out to see the stars," Jane answered very matter-of-factly. "And I did that 'cause …I wanted to show you somethin' that's beautiful and important to me. I really hate that I left without sayin' goodbye, but not as much as I hate—" She cut herself off with a sharp breath, folding her arms and returning her proud eyes to the ground. Maura thought she'd have finished the sentence by naming whoever it was she was after, but instead, Jane muttered, "I hate not bein' able to write down how I feel. Couldn't hardly leave a note when I brung you back that night."

Deciding it wouldn't be tactful to point out that "brung" wasn't a word, Maura pointedly replied, "The Sheriff said Frost puts your words down on paper when you want to write a letter."

Jane reluctantly brought her gaze back to Maura's. "Yeah. To my family. My family is Frost's family." She didn't know how to proceed from here without sounding inappropriately possessive, but it was important to her that Maura knew she hadn't taken their separation lightly. "Maura, what I had to say to you—I didn't want to have to go through Frost."

Maura raised her eyebrows, dimly recognizing that her heartbeat had quickened at Jane's words. "Such as what?"

"Such as—well, I dunno, findin' out what you were doin', how you were gettin' on."

"Without you, you mean?" Maura asked, definitely sounding proud.

Discouraged by the acidic tone, Jane said, "Er—I guess. I mean, you told me how you was homesick for Boston, and I wanted to make sure you was doin' okay in the Creek. I reckon a letter should be like a conversation, and I didn't—uh …I didn't want Frost in on my conversations with you."

"Why not?" Maura asked innocently.

Jane knew she was getting red in the face, and was starting to wish she hadn't brought this up. "Aw, gee, Maura, I dunno. I reckon there's things I told ya that I ain't told many other people, and I think you confided some in me, too."

"I suppose I did, yes," Maura said.

"So? How about it?" Jane asked nervously, extending her hand. "Can we be friends again?" When Maura didn't respond after a few hellishly anxious moments, Jane took a brave stab at humor: "C'mon, what've I got to do, beg?" she asked, sticking out her lower lip in a pout too adorable to refuse.

Maura had to smile, and she graciously shook Jane's hand. "Friends. My word, Jane, did you learn that move from Jo Friday? Every time I'm at Angela's, Jo begs for scraps from the food I bring, and she makes a face just like that."

"Really? You been spending time with Jo?" Jane asked, grinning widely. "Boy, I bet she's grown a lot since I been gone, huh?"

"What, you mean you haven't seen her yet?" Maura asked in surprise.

"Uh…no," Jane admitted. "You're actually the first one I came to see. I just got back."

"You—_I'm_—?" Maura stammered. She didn't know quite how to react to this news, and Jane's blank expression wasn't helping much. It really was a testament to how much Jane cared that she had sought out Maura before even going by Angela, her brothers, or Korsak. As Jane continued to stare in confusion at Maura's speechlessness, Maura delicately put a hand to her heart and said, "Jane! That's really…"

"What?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's really sweet!"

"Aw, come on, don't be a sap," Jane snorted, though she had to admit this reaction was better than any she could have had the right to hope for. "Hey, I'm glad you ain't mad anymore, because otherwise, I wouldn't have known who to give _this _to." She pulled a small sack out of the pocket of her fringed, buckskin vest and held it out for Maura. When the woman curiously took it, Jane said, "I noticed them jasper earrings you had on your first day here, and I thought this might go nice with 'em, maybe."

Maura pulled a humble necklace out of the bag and gasped softly at its understated beauty. Mostly it was a black cord, but a brown, striped piece of jasper stone had been pounded into an inverted triangle, and hung in the middle as a slightly crude pendant. "Oh, Jane… you got this for me?"

"I know it ain't too fancy, but like I said, I thought it might go nice with those earrings you've got," Jane said anxiously. Her tone shifted to one of light surprise when Maura grinned and held the necklace up to one of her ears, wherefrom was hanging one of the earrings in question. "Oh! Hey, look at that! Perfect match!"

"Perfect match," Maura demurely concurred, smiling at Jane before bringing the necklace back in front of her eyes. "Oh, it's just lovely! But Jane, how did you… afford it?"

She had worried the question might offend Jane, but Jane seemed undaunted and even a little proud of her purchase as she clasped her hands behind her back and answered: "I didn't beg borrow or steal. I only sold what belonged to me."

Maura gasped. "Your hair!"

Jane looked at her as though Maura were utterly mad. "No," she said slowly, pulling her hair out of its makeshift ponytail and giving it a vigorous shake. "The Indian I got it from was willing to trade it for one of my hats, so it came out even."

"Oh." Maura bit her lip, then asked, "Would you help me put it on?"

"Right now?"

"Well, yes. Did we not just establish that it would match the earrings I'm currently wearing?"

"Er—yeah, I guess we _did _establish that," Jane said, reaching out for the necklace.

"It'll be much easier to do with those gloves off," Maura said.

Jane looked down at her thick gloves. "Ah, you're probably right." Before taking them off, she stepped behind Maura, and one look tacitly communicated that the doctor was not intended to turn around. After Jane had stuffed her gloves into one of her pockets, she said, "Okay, hand it on back." Maura silently did so, and helpfully pulled her long hair off to one side. With trembling fingers, Jane reached for the necklace when Maura handed it to her, shifting it under her thick, golden hair. "Could ya—could you uh, bring one of your fingers back here?" Jane asked, and Maura again silently obliged, giving Jane something to tie a small knot around. It took her a few times to get it right, but Jane was finally able to secure the necklace around what she couldn't help noticing was a beautiful neck.

When Maura turned around to thank her, Jane hastily stuck her scarred hands into her back pockets again. "Hey, it looks nice on ya," she said.

Maura thanked her, then without missing a beat, asked, "Why won't you ever let me see your hands?"

"What d'you mean?" Jane asked, trying and failing to play innocent.

"You won't let me see them or even feel them," Maura pointed out, curious. "I remember the last night you were here, you… let me hold your hand, but not quite. It was your fingers, really. And when we touched later, you pulled away so fast. Don't you trust me?"

Jane opened her mouth but closed it again, thrown a little off guard by having Maura ask the question she herself was so accustomed to putting forward. "Sure I trust you," she mumbled. "I just don't wanna get into it is all. I ain't got nice hands like you. Please don't ask me again." With that she turned around, quickly pulling her gloves back on, away from Maura's prying eyes.

"All right," Maura sighed. "Then you still owe me something."

"What?" Jane asked, turning back to face her.

"When I shot an arrow through the heel of that boot three and a half weeks ago," Maura replied. "You said you would tell me something about Jake Wyatt."

"Yes, but ya didn't say when I had to tell ya that."

"No, but it would be a good way of making up with me."

"On top of that necklace?"

"So you only got this necklace to get back into my good graces?"

"No, I thought you would like it, so I got it for ya."

Jane's response was so blunt and obviously sincere that Maura felt a bit childish for having questioned her motives. "That was sweet of you," she conceded, starting to walk back in the direction of town. "I apologize for badgering you."

"You already have it figured out, y'know," Jane said, falling into step beside her. "Why I do it, I mean."

"Do I?"

"Yes. What you said earlier, about me and Frost trackin' someone down. A while ago I figured if I got myself a reputation, you know, made people sort of intimidated, it'd be easier to find the fella we're searching for. Get it? When you scare the bad guys, you're bad news. Makes it so crooks like talkin' to me; thinks it makes 'em someone important if Jake Wyatt's lendin' an ear, y'know? And while we ain't found the guy we're lookin' for yet, we've sure as hell helped Korsak track down a bunch of fellas he's been chasin' for years."

"Is it the man who killed your father?" Maura asked timidly, trying to watch where she was going as she looked at Jane for a reaction.

The only shift in Jane's expression was a more furrowed brow and more pronounced frown, as she quickly tried to decide whether or not to tell Maura she was right. Might as well; Maura wasn't stupid, and she already knew so much. "Yeah," Jane said quietly. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a few moments, rolling her shoulders as if a weight had just been slid off them. "Yeah. That's who we're after."

"That shows a lot of dedication," Maura said gently. "What do you plan on doing once you've found him?"

"Not sure," Jane muttered. "Used to think I did, but I don't anymore. I've spent so long trying to find him, that now …when it could really actually happen, I'm a little…"

"Scared?" Maura prompted her.

"No," Jane said sharply, her features darkening again. "I ain't scared of nothin'." Sensing that she had wounded Jane's pride, Maura backed off, and then Jane was the one who felt bad for getting snippy. "It's been hell," she said quietly. "The man who done it—we don't even know his name. He's clever; he keeps changin' it wherever he goes. And he always had a partner, or an apprentice, I guess you'd say. But when he done the actual act, his face'd be covered, with a kerchief or a bandana or somethin'. So we've caught us a couple of apprentices, but never him. It's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."

"Well, that's…seriously black."

Jane snorted. "Yep. Sure is."

Maura's curiosity could not be satiated: "How've you been trying to find him if you don't know his name or what he looks like?"

It was a few moments before Jane thoughtfully responded: "You say you spend a lot of time around dead people, Maura. Ever worked with murderers' leftovers?"

"I should say not. Father would never have approved."

"Ah. Guess that makes sense. Well anyhow, murderers like this guy… they have a sort of a signature. It's a clue I guess they can't help leavin' behind. Each person they kill, it's got that stamp, that thing that makes it clear _he's _the one who done it. He don't leave a note, but it's the style of the murder, you know? You get to askin' around …and people open up. It ain't brought up in decent society, but when I'm Jake, people ain't got a filter. They tell ya any grisly, depraved story they want."

Silence descended upon them again as Maura considered everything Jane had just said. It continued to be troublesome to her: one moment Jane was sweet and laughing and giving her gifts—flowers, a tortoise, a necklace—and the next, Maura found herself unable to even imagine the horrors this woman subjected herself to on a near-daily basis. She wondered if it was difficult for Jane to try and re-adjust to life in Hollow Creek when she spent nearly all of her time amongst the dregs of society, risking her life. Overall it seemed very impressive that she had yet to lose her mind, and had also managed to keep this secret lifestyle from her brothers and Angela (who, Maura had come to learn, seemed better at sniffing out details and stories better than anyone she knew). Did Jane ever get the chance to unwind when she was on the road? Or could she only do that when she stopped by home every few years? What was the murderer's signature that Jane could recognize? Did it have anything to do with Jane's hands?

When they reached the Sheriff's office a few minutes or two later, Maura came to a stop, and Jane looked at her questioningly. "I need to ask the Sheriff a question about Wind Whistler. You go on ahead, Jane."

"Oh, all right. Uh…I was just gonna head over to Angela's."

"Good idea. They'll be thrilled to see you."

Jane half-smiled and shrugged. "I guess. See you around, Maura."

"Goodbye." Once Jane was a good ways down the road, Maura's smile faded and she turned into the Sheriff's office. Korsak was sitting at his desk, looking over a map Frost had just left with him, but he glanced up when Maura said, "Good afternoon, Sheriff."

"Hello, Dr. Isles! How's Wind Whistler?"

"Fine." She was fidgeting, and when Korsak raised an eyebrow, she sighed and sat down in the chair opposite him. "May I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"It's about Jane." He tensed noticeably, but Maura ignored this and went on: "She just found me, and she apologized for leaving here so quickly without saying goodbye to me. I have no inhibitions about telling you that I find myself …strangely bonded to her. I can't quite explain it, but she and I have become unlikely friends."

"Very unlikely," Korsak chuckled.

"Yes…well, I have to say, it's been awful knowing only part of the truth about her. I know she keeps this whole Jake Wyatt business a secret from Angela and her brothers, but I already know about it, and she still won't let me in on everything. It's not that she needs to, but it puts me in an awkward position."

"It puts _you _in an awkward position?"

"Take her hands for example. Sheriff, please. Tell me. I know you know what happened to her, and I just want to understand!"

She could see the memory unfolding on his face, but his lips remained tightly closed for several moments. His voice was hoarse when he finally replied: "Dr. Isles, you have to keep this in mind: your knowing about Jane and Jake Wyatt is pure coincidence. I can assure you that if she hadn't chanced upon your coach coming into town, even if you two became friends anyway, that is not information she would have volunteered to you. What happened to Jane and her hands—all of her—that is something I cannot and will not ever tell a soul without her express permission. And I cannot in good conscience encourage you to ask her more about it. When Jane is home, I do not want her haunted by what happened in the past. I need—_we _need—her to feel like she can be safe here. Do not ask her again."

His tone was not unkind, but effectual all the same. Maura hadn't been expecting him to tell her anything anyway, but she still couldn't fight a sense of disappointment as she bid him farewell and walked back outside.

Once she was gone, Korsak picked up the map again, but couldn't bring himself to concentrate. In bringing this up and leaving in such quick succession, Maura had left him alone with his singular worst memory…

* * *

><p><em>He would never know what it was, but something had prompted him to check out the woods a second time that evening. It was troubling and more than a little odd: he'd already gotten in bed, shirt and boots removed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to get up. After about ten minutes, he couldn't take it anymore and dressed again, saddling his horse and riding off to do his rounds once more.<em>

_Going through the woods, Korsak stopped his horse. He could hear a fire—who was out here so late? Dismounting, he automatically pulled out his pistol, walking towards the sound of the fire, confident that its crackling would drown out the sound of his footsteps. Flames flickered into view, and Korsak saw a man leaning over next to it. His first thought was that he was preparing a makeshift bed, but then he heard something to make the hair on his neck stand on end._

_A girl's voice: "Please—please, sir, please!"_

_"Please what, Janie?" There was a wicked, dark hiss, followed by the sound of fabric being ripped apart._

_Korsak jumped forward, barking, "Hey!"_

_The man twisted around, and Korsak felt a chill run through his blood—the man was dressed like a bandit, and was holding a knife. He threw the knife in Korsak's direction, and barely seeing the attack coming, Korsak fell to the forest floor to avoid being hit. Then a gunshot was fired, and Korsak stayed on the ground. Quick footsteps, more gunfire, then a horse—his own—running off with the criminal on top of it. Korsak looked up, yelling "Stop!" and knowing it was in vain. Scrambling to his feet, he fired a blind shot and another, but the villain was too far gone, out of range, in the dark. Swearing, Korsak holstered his gun and ran to the spot near the fire that the man had just vacated._

_There he was greeted by the most heart-wrenching thing he had ever seen: young Jane Rizzoli, her face streaked with dirt and tears, trembling violently. Korsak hovered over her, his mouth open in shock—steel or nails had been driven through the palms of her hands, blood still pooling out of them. He didn't know what to do, how to help._

_"It hurts," Jane whimpered, her voice quivering with tears. "It hurts!"_

_"Jane—it's gonna be okay," Korsak whispered. "You're gonna be all right."_

_He tried to reach for one of the nails, but Jane vehemently shook her head. "Pop—pop…"_

_What? "Jane, no, it's me, Deputy Korsak."_

_She tried to nod behind her. "No—my dad—he's over there."_

_Korsak felt the life draining out of him. He looked up, willing his eyes to adjust to the dark away from the fire. His worst fear was confirmed when he caught sight of Jane's father, tied to a tree and gagged. His head was sunk in a grotesque bow, and Korsak tremblingly got to his feet to confirm it, that those last bullets had been meant for Tom Rizzoli, not the Sheriff. Once he got close enough, he could see a bullet hole in Tom's head and one in his chest, blood seeping out, its silence betraying the loud violence of the act that had taken his life. It also appeared as if he had been beaten severely. Korsak hardly registered that he was crying as he lowered the gag and walked back._

_"Jane," he said, his voice hoarse. "Your father is gone."_

_"What?" Jane breathed. "No, he's—he's right there."_

_Korsak knelt down next to her, struggling to keep his vision clear as he looked into Jane's wide, wet eyes. "Your father," he started again, and Jane inhaled sharply, shaking her head as best she could. Korsak shuddered. "He's not with us anymore." He quickly wiped at his tears with his sleeve and swiftly changed the subject to a no more pleasant one: "Jane, your hands…"_

_"Can you help me?" she whispered._

_"I can—I can take them out myself or go get Dr. Pike—"_

_"No!" Jane cried. "Don't leave, me, Deputy, please don't leave me alone!"_

_The desperation and anxiety in her tone erased any of Korsak's hesitation. Jane Rizzoli had always been a brave kid. Seeing her this scared was almost unbearable. "All right," he said. "Jane—this is gonna hurt, okay? It's gonna hurt a lot, but then we'll get you taken care of." Jane just nodded, though she looked clearly terrified._

_Korsak pulled off his vest and ripped both his sleeves at the seam. Jane winced at the sound, and for the first time, Korsak realized Jane's shirt had been torn downwards from the collar to her navel, though it still covered her. He guessed he had arrived just in time to keep the criminal from pulling the fabric apart and away. He quickly took his vest and covered her before taking a deep breath for the hard part. He gently laid his arm over Jane's wrist, palming the dirt above it to keep her steady. His fingers were quaking as they hovered over the nail, and he tried hurriedly to decide whether it needed to be pulled out slowly or all at once. This was going to be extremely painful no matter what he did, so it might as well be done fast._

_Still, nothing could prepare him for the strangled cry of absolute torture that burst out of Jane when he yanked out the nail. He whispered empty, desperate encouragements to her as he hastily tied his sleeve tightly around her profusely bleeding hand. As he tightened it, she choked on her fear, her tears, her breath. When he pulled out the second nail, Jane was much quieter until the nail was completely out. As he wrapped her hand, an ugly sob came out of her, and she wailed like a dying animal. Korsak gently pulled her upwards into a sitting position, forcefully flexing her arms as she shook with renewed crying._

_"You're okay, Jane," he said, rubbing her back. "You're gonna be all right."_

_"Dad—where's daddy?" she croaked, turning to look._

_Korsak twisted her back to look at him. "Don't, Jane. Don't look. I'll come back for him."_

_"D-don't leave him here, Deputy, please!"_

_"Jane, there's nothin' I can do for your father now," Korsak said, fighting to keep the tears out of his voice, to keep it steady for her. "I will come back for him, I promise—but only after I've gotten you taken care of, all right?"_

_Finally she gave him a weak nod, and Korsak gingerly, tenderly scooped her up in his arms. She was too weak to stand, and besides, her pride had been completely demolished by the horror of what had just happened to her. Korsak cradled her close, doing his best to impart whatever tacit consolation he could. Jane was trembling like a leaf in a wild wind, wracking with loud sobs, and Korsak wasn't doing too well himself. Neither of them were sure how long they just stood there, Jane in his arms, one under her knees and the other under her back, his hand squeezing her shoulder as they cried together. What finally got him moving was the remembrance that Jane had lost an unnerving amount of blood, and it was still seeping out of her—he needed to get back to town._

_They exchanged no words during the walk; the only sound aside from Jane crying was Korsak's heavy footsteps. What was really weighing the Sheriff down was knowing he had only walked in on the end of something—at some point, maybe as soon as tonight or tomorrow, Jane would have to tell him what had happened. She would have to explain everything. Korsak grit his teeth, feeling the fury building inside him at the thought of this monstrous man—how dare he. How could a person be so hell-bent on destroying the life of a fourteen-year-old girl? She was just a child… just a child…_

_They were out of the woods, and Korsak realized Jane had passed out. Her full weight rested in his arms, and her crying had subsided. It took him a moment to orient himself in the near darkness, and he only knew where he was when he saw Angela running towards him with a candle in hand. He automatically took a step back, but she had clearly already seen him._

_"Deputy!" she whispered urgently, her eyes widening when she saw what Korsak was holding. A horrified gasp escaped her and her free hand flew up to her mouth. "God above—Janie!"_

_"She'll be all right, I just gotta get her to Dr. Pike," Korsak said, continuing down the street, knowing Angela would be following him. "She's fainted."_

_"What happened?"_

_"I don't know yet."_

_"Where'd you find her? Deputy, I was just coming to look for you—Frankie and Tommy come to my place; they said Jane and Tom were gone, and they were worried! Where's Tom, do you know?"_

_"Tom's…" Korsak inhaled deeply, staring determinedly ahead, unable to meet Angela's eyes. "Tom's been killed. I think—I think Jane could've been next."_

_Angela sputtered incomprehensibly, and when she spoke, tears were clearly evident in her voice: "Tom's dead? Their mother's gone, and now Tom—no, Deputy, no—"_

_"Yes. I seen it myself."_

_"But who's done it?"_

_"If my guess is right, it's the same man who did it the first time. He took my horse—got away before I could do anything."_

_Angela could hear the anger and self-loathing in his tone. "Deputy, don't you blame yourself for that. Thank God you got there in time to save Janie. I mean…" She gave a shaky exhale, gesturing to the girl's body. "She's covered in blood."_

_"I gotta do better," Korsak said. "Their mother died on my watch. Their father died on my watch. Jane was almost killed, and this man—he almost …I think he was going to force himself on her." He cleared his throat and Angela gasped once more. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to these kids again." They had reached Dr. Pike's, and Korsak stopped at the front steps, finally turning to look at Angela. "I gotta go back for Tom. Will you stay with her?"_

_"Of course," Angela breathed, shuddering._

_"I'll take her in—maybe you'd best wait here until Dr. Pike is finished," Korsak said, and she nodded. "Just…be here when she wakes up."_

_"I'll not let her out of my sight, ever again."_

_"But don't ask her to tell you what happened," he said seriously. "Just be there."_

_He could see she wanted to fight him on this; Angela always wanted to know every detail about everything. But eventually she nodded solemnly. When Korsak moved to go up the steps, Angela touched his arm—"wait." She placed her candle carefully on the porch, then stepped closer to Korsak and Jane. She could feel her heart breaking at the sight of this parentless, bleeding child—even unconscious, she looked tortured, pained. "Oh," Angela breathed, reaching out with a trembling hand to gently stroke a dirty cheek. "Oh Janie, my poor baby…!"_

_Korsak couldn't put it off anymore; he gently pulled away, walking up the steps and knocking on Dr. Pike's door. Angela collapsed onto the porch steps, overcome with tears and emotion. She stood only when Korsak re-emerged several minutes later, and she saw Jane's blood on his shirt._

_"Where are the boys?" he asked gruffly._

_"They're still at my place. I waited with them until they fell asleep; I thought, I don't know, maybe Tom took Jane out fishing. I was watching at the window to see when they got back, but they nev—they never did, so I went to find you—"_

_A loud sob interrupted her, and Angela pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting to stay quiet in vain. Korsak extended an arm and put it around her; Angela turned and made it into a full-on embrace. He tightened his grip as Angela bawled onto his shoulder, unable to speak for her intense sorrow. Korsak could no longer cry, having used up all of his tears already, and focused simply on rubbing Angela's back, trying to calm her down. He couldn't bring himself to say to Angela the empty words he had tried to use to comfort Jane with. Even as he'd said them to Jane, he'd known the girl hadn't heard them, or believed them if she had. Why waste them on Angela, too?_

_After a long while, Angela had composed herself enough to pull back and speak: "I'm sorry for flying at you like that, Vince."_

_"S'all right," Korsak said quietly. "I think it was warranted in this case." He changed the topic on the flip of a dime. "Can the boys read?"_

_"Frankie can, well enough."_

_"Leave them a note, then come back here. I've explained to Dr. Pike that he's to come out and get you when Jane is… better. Shouldn't be more than an hour or two."_

_"Okay. I'll go write that note, then. Deputy…"_

_"Yes?" he asked patiently._

_She put a hand on his shoulder. "Help me with Jane. She's proud, she's wild, you know. She's gonna want to take care of them all herself, but I want to help her, her and the boys. I can take care of Frankie and Tommy, but Jane's so, well, like I said. She respects you because her father respects—respected you."_

_"Janie loves you," Korsak said._

_"Help me keep her in line?"_

_"Absolutely." He sighed heavily. "All right. I'm gonna go wake up Cavanaugh…get Tom."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Just as a side note, yes, I changed the Rizzoli's dad's name from Frank to Tom.


	16. Of Bad Brothers and Bumblebees

**A/N**: Now that I think about it, I guess the second half of that last chapter was relatively dark. I hope it doesn't seem like too much of a shift to be sending tons o' fluff your way for the next few chapters to atone for it.

* * *

><p>As Maura exited the Sheriff's office, she saw Jane striding up the street from the opposite direction. "I thought you were going to Angela's," Maura said, when Jane had raised a hand in friendly salutation.<p>

"I was. I did. Frost was there, and he said Korsak wanted to see me. Say, you were fast. Wind Whistler all right?" Before giving Maura a chance to respond, Jane plowed on: "Hey, you know I'm surprised at you. Ya been out here a month, and you still go to ride like you're gonna meet a queen!"

Looking down at what she was wearing, Maura laughed and said, "Oh, heavens, no! This is hardly appropriate attire for meeting a queen, Jane!"

"Well it's hardly appropriate attire for riding a horse, either!" Jane shot back with a grin. She thoughtfully cocked her head, walking a small circle around Maura and letting her eyes rove over the dignified woman's figure. "Hmm, yep. We've gotta get you a pair of riding pants. And don't gimme that look," she chuckled when Maura opened her mouth to protest what she thought to be a wildly disturbing idea. "It's common practice for ladies out here. Just—think about it, okay?"

"Oh, go see the Sheriff," Maura said, narrowing her eyes and feigning annoyance.

Jane just laughed and continued on her way, and Maura decided to go to Angela's saloon herself. It had been a few days since her last chess game, and she could use the mental stimulation after her long and relaxing horse ride. When she got to Angela's, it was to see that Tommy had already gotten the chess set out and was eager to play. Maura was always surprised by how intellectually Tommy approached the game, and today was no different.

"You remain an exceedingly difficult opponent," Maura remarked about halfway through their game.

"Only givin' what I'm gettin'," Tommy replied suggestively in a voice so low that only Maura could hear him.

Maura, as she was wont to do, missed the innuendo entirely. The comment only made her redouble her efforts, determined to wipe the confident, playful smirk off Tommy's handsome mug.

Just then, Jane reentered the saloon, where she was immediately apprehended by Frankie. "The hell's this?" she muttered, gesturing to Tommy and Maura, who hadn't noticed she'd come in. Clearly the two of them were familiar with each other; they were laughing and exchanging knowing looks that were making Jane supremely uncomfortable. "This don't look like it's a new development, Frankie."

"Well, it's not," Frankie sighed. "They been playin' for a while now—and Mr. Fairfield knows, so don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" Jane whispered harshly. "Take a look at his face, Frankie! Mr. Fairfield ever seen that? Ever seen the way Tommy looks at his fiancé? Like she's a steak?"

"Relax, Jane. You're readin' too much into it. Besides, Maura's only interested in Tommy's mind. Frankly I thought she'd be better off just studying a half-filled bowl of porridge, but…"

Jane snorted a laugh and clapped Frankie on the shoulder. Then, with a confident swagger, she made her presence known by sauntering towards the chess board. "If I might make a suggestion," she said, picking up a knight and checking Maura's king.

Instead of being annoyed at having lost the game, Maura looked up at Jane in impressed surprise. "You play chess?"

"Sure, who d'you think taught him?" Jane chuckled, playfully knocking her brother's hat off his head. "Tommy's not the only one of us with a beautiful mind." Tommy looked sullen, but Maura was smiling brightly at this new piece of information as Jane walked over to the bar to sit by Frost.

"So Angela's been telling me about the Creek's plans for Thanksgiving," Frost told her. "Apparently, old Stanley's packing up shop and moving over to Green Forge. So we're having a sort of going-away party at his tavern."

"Yeah?" Jane said. "We goin', Ma?"

"It's a holiday to give thanks, isn't it?" Angela asked. "And I'm thankful Stanley is leavin', so we ought to celebrate!"

"So it's more of a good-riddance party, huh?" Jane sniggered. "Ma, you're awful!"

"Everyone in town is going," Angela said, though she was smiling also. "It would be rude not to attend! Stanley's opening his place to all of us, including women and children. There won't be a showgirl in sight."

"Oh darn," Jane joked. "Everybody's goin', huh?" She turned to look at Maura, who was had just finished helping Tommy put the chess pieces back to start a new game. "How about you, Maura? You and Mr. Fairfield goin' to this shindig?"

"Of course!" she chirped. "A town function is a town function, regardless of whether it happens to take place in a tavern or not. We want to be supportive. Furthermore, it has been sanctioned by the Sheriff and Father Scott, so it will be quite safe, I'm sure. And besides, Garrett and I never could resist a good dance!"

Swiveling back to look at Angela, Jane grumbled, "It's a dance?"

"Don't you care for dancing, Jane?" Maura asked.

Frankie and Tommy laughed aloud at the innocence in Maura's voice. "Jane's about as graceful as a duck with two broken feet!" Frankie said.

"Shut up, Frankie," Jane muttered, slapping his head.

"Jane, you _must_ dance!" Maura gasped.

"Uh, Maura, it's your move," Tommy said.

But Maura, too distracted by the horror of someone not liking to dance, didn't hear him. In fact, she got up and walked over to where Jane was sitting in order to better lecture her. "Jane, a dance is the one of the most sophisticated and civilized expressions of human interaction and emotion!"

"Aw, any brainless savage can dance," Frankie said. "Otherwise, Tommy wouldn't be able to!"

"Lay off, Frankie," Tommy moaned.

"Well there you go," Maura said to Jane. "You must fall into _one _of those two categories, sophisticate or savage. So you have to be able to dance."

"I keep tellin' her," Angela said to Maura, "the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach or through a dance—and she don't cook _or _dance!"

"Right, and I don't intend to start now," Jane cut in.

"Besides," Tommy said with a sneer. "How would you know which part to teach her, the man's or the woman's?" When Jane twisted around to glare at him, he shrugged and said, "What? It's an honest question. I can't picture ya dancin' with a man is all. You wouldn't wanna let him lead. And I can't see ya wearin' a dress either, for that matter."

"I ain't wearin' a dress," Jane said, pointing an accusatory finger at Angela, as though all societal stipulations for rhythmic ceremonial rituals were her idea.

Angela frowned. "Will you _dance _then, at least?"

"Nah, Janie's too proud," Tommy scoffed.

"What're you sayin', Tommy?" Jane sighed.

"Well Frankie or me'll have to teach ya, and you don't ever let us teach ya nothin'."

"That's 'cause the last time I tried lettin' you teach me somethin', Tommy, a guitar string split my lip and almost poked my eye out!"

He blushed. "Oh, you remember that?"

Maura suddenly piped up: "I'll teach you!" They all turned to stare at her, their expressions ones that would have been appropriate if Maura had just offered to go stick her head in a lion's mouth for no reason. "It would be my pleasure," she insisted. "I've been learning to dance since I was a child."

Jane laughed weakly. "Maura Isles, is there anything you _can't _do? Oh, wait! I know! You don't ride a horse proper." She held out her hand. "I'll let you teach me to dance if you'll let me help you become a real Western rider."

"You still using that English saddle, Maura?" Tommy snickered.

At this testament of familiarity, Jane felt herself tense involuntarily, but her attention was diverted when she realized Maura was shaking her hand. With narrowed eyes and an unwilling smile, Maura said, "It's a deal."

"Ha, good luck," Angela said to Maura. "Trying to teach Janie anything is like trying to read the Bible to Satan."

"Hard, probably pointless, and the most unwilling student you ever saw," Frost elaborated, ticking the reasons off on his fingers.

"Aw, what do you know?" Jane scoffed. "And _you_," she said, turning again to Tommy. "What's with your attitude? What happened to being happy to see me?"

It looked as though it was paining Tommy to stand up, which was explained when his left leg came into view and Jo Friday had her teeth clamped onto it. "Oh I dunno, maybe I'm a little upset because when you left, you decided to turn this puppy into an attack dog whose only target is me!" He shook his leg a little for emphasis, and Jo resiliently stayed on, eliciting ladylike gasps from Maura and Angela (and repressed chuckles from Frost, Frankie, and Jane). "_You _got a problem you're not sharin' with me, Jane?"

Jane burst out laughing. "Jo! Ya silly girl, what're you doin'?" At the sound of her name in her master's voice, Jo let go of Tommy and bounded towards Jane. She scooped the dog up, holding her under her front legs and making a face at her. "Don't go for my brother, ya crazy pup! If you gotta attack someone, go after Grant or Dean, or someone like that." She brought Jo's face down to her own forehead and nuzzled it briefly. "Sorry, Tommy. I won't let it happen again, if I can help it."

"Ah, it's all right, I guess," Tommy said, walking over and hesitantly scratching Jo behind the ears. "Maybe she just don't like chess. She only really bites me when we're playin'."

Maura threw in her two cents: "Perhaps she was hoping to distract you so I would win."

He grinned devilishly and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh, you sayin' I need to be distracted in order for you to win, huh?"

"Ooh, you walked into that one, Maura," Jane chuckled, setting Jo on her lap.

"You are all awful," Maura sighed.

"Hey! What'd _I _do?" Frankie asked.

"Except you, Frankie. You're sweet."

"Thank you," he said with a sanctimonious nod towards his siblings.

"Well, Jane, let's go," Maura said lightly, tapping her on the shoulder.

"What? Where?"

"Well Thanksgiving is in three days. That isn't a lot of time to pass you off as at least a _partly _adequate dancer. Besides, the sooner you let me do this for you, the sooner you can teach me how to 'properly' ride a horse." When Jane just pursed her lips and didn't otherwise move, Maura impatiently clapped her hands together twice. Jo instantly jumped over to Maura, who said, "Come on, Jane! No dilly-dallying!"

Slumping off her stool and trudging towards the door, Jane groaned, "I never shoulda left Jo alone with you for so long! She's betrayed me!"

As Jo ran in excited circles around Jane's feet, Maura just laughed. "I don't think you have anything to worry about concerning Jo's loyalties, Jane."

Jane sighed and looked up to see that Frost and her brothers had congregated to say goodbye to her. With the air of faux seriousness they had created, there was a feeling that Jane was on her way to an execution chamber. Frost took off his hat and gravely shook Jane's hand: "Good luck, partner."

"I love you," Frankie said, patting Jane on the shoulder and wiping an imaginary tear away.

"Don't let her ride you too hard," Tommy said, also shaking Jane's hand. "I know she looks sweet, but you get her riled up, or get her competitive streak goin', and she turns into a whole new breed!"

Something in Tommy's tone led Jane to think he was lording his knowledge over her, the fact that he knew something about Maura that his sister didn't. This impression was helped when Maura leaned forward and said, "It's true, I'm afraid. So you'd do well to come along, Jane."

"I tremble and obey," Jane said, quoting Maura's own words back to her. With that, they headed outside, Jo scampering ahead of them. "So wait, why'd we have to leave?"

"I figured it would be easier for you to focus without the men making snide comments."

"Fair point," Jane chuckled, hoping that by acting amused, she could successfully mask her own nervousness. "So we goin' back to the boarding house, then?"

"Actually," Maura said slowly. "I thought I might take you to—I mean I thought we might go to my future home. The house Garrett is currently living in, I mean. Of course he's at work and won't be home for several hours, so… that way, we can have some privacy."

Jane nodded lightly. "Oh. Right. Wouldn't want Bass watchin' me make a fool of myself." They both chuckled at that, relieving some of the tension. A few moments later, Jane noticed that Jo seemed to be acting a bit erratically: "Uh… what's my dog doing?"

Jo Friday was running in half-circles, her head inclined upwards as she took intermittent leaps into the air, biting at what appeared to be nothing, then ducking and dodging. Occasionally she twisted around to make sure Maura and Jane were still following her.

Maura laughed and explained: "We noticed she's been doing that for a while—she's chasing bumblebees! They're the only thing out here smaller than she is."

"For now," Jane said, confident that her dog would grow significantly bigger one day, and not realizing that she had picked the runt of the litter. "Do you think that's such a good idea, though? What if she gets stung?"

The tenderness in Jane's voice was oddly endearing, but Maura had to point out: "Aren't you the one that kicked a rock in her face a few weeks ago, just to make sure she was tough enough to be _your _dog?"

"Hey, that was a pebble, not a rock."

"The point still stands." Just after Maura had made this remark, another point drove itself into one of Jo's paws—more specifically, a bee's stinger. She gave a little yelp and in a possibly uncalled-for fit of histrionics, collapsed immediately to the ground in pain. This drastic action was enough to call Jane instantly to her side, with Maura not far behind.

After throwing herself onto her knees next to Jo, Jane said, "Oh no, she's been stung!"

"Don't worry, that bee will never do it again," Maura said, leaning down.

Jane grimaced at her. "This ain't no time for jokes, Maura. Can you help her?"

Maura tried to peer closer, and Jane helpfully straightened up with the whimpering dog in her arms. "Oh dear, you're right," she said, taking hold of Jo's front left paw and examining it more closely. "That should teach her to be a little more careful, although to be honest, I'm surprised this hasn't happened already." She looked up and saw that Jane was about to tell her off for insulting her dog, so she hastened to add, "Don't worry—I'm no veterinarian, but I think I can take care of this."

"Have you got somethin' on you?" Jane asked.

"No—my things are at Garrett's; I was helping Dr. Byron with a house call today, and he lives just down the street. We'll have to walk, but—oh, Father Scott!"

How fortuitous it was that just then, the priest who lived on Garrett's block happened to be driving by in his coach on his way home. The house call Maura and Byron had made that morning was actually to his recovering wife, and as such, he was only too happy to give her and Jane a ride back to the other end of town. Once Maura explained why they were in something of a hurry, Father Scott shamelessly did his best to enter Jane's good graces by expounding on his fervent testimony of God's love for all things great and small, particularly man's best friend. Maura was pleased that he was trying so hard to engage the interest of someone who a pastor in Boston probably would have looked down his nose at, but Jane was too distracted by Jo's pain to really be listening. In fact her distraction was so great that she even failed to notice the fact that soon they had entered the relatively new, unmistakably nice part of town—she was surrounded by homes and people who stank of money, but she would have time to fret about that later. As soon as the coach rolled to a stop outside of Garrett's house, Jane quickly thanked the priest and dashed towards the white picket fence. Sensing that Jane didn't want this prolonged any further, Maura still made sure her appreciation was known before allowing Father Scott to help her out of the coach.

"Take her around to the porch in back," she sighed as they approached the house. "I'm not sure Garrett would approve of a dog tearing around the place."

Jane didn't think Jo would be quite up for "tearing around," but she had to respect that this home did not yet belong to Maura and that it would be pushing boundaries to bring a dog inside. So as Maura went in to collect the necessary instruments, Jane walked around to the back, still clutching Jo to her chest.

"Hey, you're pretty brave, ya know that?" she whispered. Jo had long since stopped whimpering, but jerked her leg whenever Jane tried to inspect the wounded paw. "You ain't hardly cried. And I know them bees look small, but you probably knew you were flirtin' with danger, didn't ya, girl? You take after me that way, you know."

She sat herself down on the back porch, finally allowing herself to take in her surroundings. Garrett Fairfield must be well-off indeed to live in a part of town as nice as this. There was even a small yard, complete with his own well! The neighbors seemed just as well off, all of them with two-story houses and immaculate paint jobs. It hardly felt like she was even still in Hollow Creek. Idly bouncing Jo in her arms, Jane frowned slightly as she continued to soak in the atmosphere. _I don't belong over here. This is Maura's world. This is the world she'll come and stay in once she gets married. She won't come foolin' around with us anymore; no saloon, no chess. Although maybe that's not such a bad thing_… _Tommy won't be around her so much..._

Before she could think much more about Tommy, Maura's presence was announced by the porch door being swung open and closed. Jane simultaneously stood up and turned around, and Maura directed her to one of the chairs on the porch with her free hand. The other held a small set of tweezers and a large magnifying glass, and once Jane had sat down, Maura handed the latter to her.

"Can you balance that and Jo?" she asked.

This was hard to do once Jo seemed to realize what was going on. She squirmed to get out of Jane's grip and away from the sharp, pointy-looking tool in Maura's hand, but Jane held her tightly. "Gosh, Jo, calm down," Jane grunted, fighting to maintain her hold. "We just wanna help ya!"

"You realize that talking to the dog isn't going to change her mindset," Maura said.

"Yes, Maura, I know," Jane replied darkly, finally managing to wrap one arm around Jo and using the hand at the end to grab the troubled paw. "I don't think I can hold either of these very steady," she said, referring to Jo and to the magnifying glass she was now attempting to focus on the paw.

"That's all right, just focus on the glass," Maura said, deigning to get down on her knees in front of the chair. She took hold of Jo's extended paw, and though the dog tried to resist, she eventually realized that with the women's combined efforts, it was futile. But she continued to tremble as Maura squinted through the magnifying glass and located the agitating stinger. "_There_ you are," she muttered.

Jane couldn't help teasing, "You realize that telling the stinger ya found it isn't going to make it jump out and say 'you win.'"

"Do you want me to do this or not?" Maura asked, stealing a glance at Jane and smiling. She returned her gaze to Jo's paw, and within a few moments, had successfully removed the stinger. "There, now was that so bad?"

"Apparently," Jane chuckled, for the moment she had slackened her grip, Jo had darted off her lap. "Ouch, I think she scratched me a bit," she added, rubbing the spot on her stomach where Jo's nails had briefly dug in with takeoff.

In all seriousness, Maura asked, "Do you want me to take a look?"

"No," Jane snorted, getting to her feet and implying that Maura should do the same. She looked down at Jo, who was now lying on the porch's topmost step. When Jane walked towards her, Jo weakly moved one step further down, then another. "Aw, come on, girl! Are you gonna be mad at me now?"

"She may be associating you with the pain, yes," Maura said. "But dogs have remarkably short memories, Jane. I'm sure in a few minutes she'll have forgotten all about it. She may still be in pain, but she won't remember why."

"I thought you said you weren't a veterinarian."

"I still know a thing or two about animals." _Literally—I think the list stops at that number._ "What she probably needs right now is a little time alone. Why don't we go inside and start your dancing lesson? Come on," she said, when Jane continued to frown at her dejected-looking dog. "I promise that we can come out and check on her soon."

With that, Jane turned towards the porch door and held it open for Maura. "All right. After you, then, Dr. Isles."

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><p><strong>AN**: In case I haven't said this lately, you guys are great! I had the feeling when I started writing this that it was either going to be strangely popular, or nobody would touch it with a ten-foot pole, lol. I guess that's always the case when you go for something this...well, odd. Thank you for making me feel like this is worthwhile! I seriously am so appreciative of all your support and awesome reviews :) Thank you, thank you!


	17. One, Two, Three

**A/N**: Hey guys! So I'm anticipating a very busy couple of weeks, which means the updates may not be as frequent as they have been recently. Quickness is not always my strongpoint. But don't think I've given up on this story, because that is far from the case!

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><p>It didn't take long for Maura to realize this may have been a more difficult task than she had anticipated.<p>

Jane was standing uneasily in front of her as Maura had instructed, and Maura slowly circled her, silently musing and analyzing. Jane was tall, lanky, and clearly uncomfortable with her feminine body, as evidenced by the way she held herself and kept rocking back on her heels. It was hard for Maura to see why Jane felt so uneasy, because in her objective opinion, Jane had a lovely figure. It was just a little awkward because of the way she carried herself. She kept shifting, trying to keep her eyes on Maura, hands jammed into her pockets, thumbs hooked firmly through her belt loops. Maura's gaze swept over her from head to toe, and Jane felt hot under it. Was this exhibition really necessary?

Just as she was about to ask this question out loud, Maura stopped walking and said, "All right then."

"Yeah? First lesson over?" Jane asked with a nervous laugh.

"Not quite," Maura chuckled. "It's only—well… fortunately I had the opportunity to attend a finishing school for young ladies when I was a girl, so when we learned to dance, we had to learn men's parts as well so we could practice with each other. And now, I can properly teach you."

Jane shrugged. "I don't get it, what's the difference? Every time I seen a couple dance, it looks like it's an equal give-and-take."

"Well I suppose when performed capably, a dance _would _look like that, yes. But men lead."

Raising an eyebrow, Jane clarified, "So if men lead, the woman …is passive, then."

Maura frowned. "Hm. I never really saw it that way, but now that I think about it, you may be right. But that isn't a bad thing, Jane. It's still a partnership. Men can't dance alone."

"Sure," Jane snorted. "They need someone to lead around."

"You say that like it's a horrible thing."

Jane sighed heavily, folding her arms and bowing her head. "Maybe for most women it ain't, Maura. Hell, I met plenty of women who probably need a strong hand to keep 'em in line. But for me? I dunno." She laughed, but it was a mirthless sound, as though she were mocking herself. "I've spent almost half my life pretending to be someone else. And not just someone else, but a man. With that, I've gotten used to being treated like how men would be treated. So doing things the way women are supposed to don't come naturally to me."

After surveying Jane a moment longer, Maura said, "Jorge."

"Who-hay?"

"Jorge!"

"I…I don't…"

"He came into town a few days ago, just passing through. He required some medical attention, and although it was nothing serious, Dr. Byron suggested he stay here a few days, so he has been. He's a very kind man, very sweet and unassuming. Handsome, too. Personally I don't find him attractive, but I think you might because he doesn't appear to be put off by what you might call a strong woman."

Suspiciously raising an eyebrow, Jane said, "There somethin' wrong with him?"

"Not to my knowledge," Maura said innocently. "But he's one of the first men I've encountered out here not to have any preconceived notions about my medical abilities based purely on the fact that I am a woman. He was respectful and curious, and even said he admired a woman who took initiative in life. I think he would be very impressed with you."

"And…"

"And I daresay he might even let you lead if you were to dance with him at this party."

Jane could only laugh, folding her arms and leaning against the table in the room. "You think there's a man exists who could let down his pride enough to have a woman lead him?"

"I'm not certain, but if I had to posit a guess as to whether one _did _exist, I would say it would be Jorge."

"Jorge…what kind of a name is Jorge, anyway? Spanish?"

"Yes. He's traveled up from Mexico. His English is flawless, though."

"Okay, so…let's pretend that I were to agree to go along with this, and Jorge were to agree to let me lead. How do we go about it?"

Maura stepped forward and said "Give me your hand." When Jane reluctantly acquiesced, Maura frowned as she tried to interlace their fingers. "If you're going to insist on wearing gloves, Jane, they need to be thinner. You can tell a lady by her gloves."

"Not _this _lady," Jane grumbled. When Maura gave her an annoyed look, Jane decided to cave and humor her: "All right, what can ya tell about me from mine?"

Releasing Jane's fingers, Maura kept the woman's hand in her own, pretending to inspect it closely. "You ride frequently, you work hard, and you're thick-skinned and guarded. Hm… your fingers are longer than mine, so you can't borrow one of my pairs. Oh, I know! Hold on just a moment." She bustled into another room, leaving a bemused Jane in the kitchen. Jane was about to get up and look through the window to find Jo, but Maura came back just then, bearing a sleek pair of black gloves. "These are Garrett's," she said a little guiltily, holding them out to Jane. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind your borrowing them for today. They're deerskin."

"Oh yeah," Jane muttered, taking the gloves. "I see whatcha mean …I think Frost's got some gloves like this I could borrow."

"Yes, but for now…"

"All right, all right," Jane sighed, turning away from Maura and looking out the window. Using her teeth to yank off one thick glove, she searched out Jo in the backyard. She was still sitting on the porch, and Jane wondered if she had dozed off. "Maura?" she said in a thick voice as she put on Garrett's gloves. "Will ya do me a favor?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"If, uh… well, I don't wanna sound dramatic," she said, trying to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. With Garrett's gloves securely in place, she turned back to look at Maura, nodding at the window behind her. "If anything ever happens to me, will ya make sure Jo gets taken care of? You could even call her Josephine if you want." When Maura did nothing more than gaze somberly at her, Jane said, "I know it must sound funny; I mean, I ain't hardly had Jo around me more than, well, three days. But I love her more'n I've ever loved any other animal. She's special. And if I couldn't take care of her, I'd want to make sure she was in special hands. I know you don't like dogs much, but at least could ya make sure somebody takes care of her?"

Maura was deeply moved by the sincerity in Jane's request. Before Bass had come into her possession, she had marveled at the connections other people could make with animals, with creatures that couldn't talk or smile back. She might have found it strange that Jane had such a strong bond with an animal she had not, by her own admission, spent much time with. But knowing now what she did about Jane and about her relationships with animals, Maura couldn't help but feel honored that Jane would make this request.

When it dawned on her that she hadn't responded, Maura said, "Yes. I'll make sure she's taken care of. But Jane… Jane, you don't really think that will ever be necessary, do you?"

Wearing a grim smile, Jane shrugged casually. "Been lucky for fifteen years, I guess. No reason for that to change any time soon, huh?"

"I worried about you, you know." The shift in Maura's tone would have caught Jane's attention, even if her words hadn't. Though Maura appeared slightly embarrassed, she went on: "I was worried, and I had nobody to talk to about it. I suppose I could have spoken with the Sheriff, but… well, I'm not on quite as familiar terms with him as I am with your brothers or Angela. And of course I couldn't talk to Garrett or Melody about it. I was scared for you, Jane. I was afraid you wouldn't come back. I don't want you to…" She inhaled sharply to catch her breath, to fight back the tears that were quite suddenly threatening to spring out. "I don't want you to be just a memory, Jane."

"Maura…"

The doctor held up a hand to stop Jane when the woman took a step closer. "No. It's all right. I had Bass to speak to." She laughed softly at herself. "That sounds so silly to me, but I know you won't judge me for it. You were right, it—it helped to have something to listen to me ramble, even if he wasn't really listening, it… it helped."

Her efforts were futile, and she had let some tears escape her. Maura inclined her head down and away, eyes tightly shut so she wouldn't have to see the look of discomfort on Jane's face. This was awkward enough for her—where had all of this emotion come from? She heard herself muttering empty, embarrassed apologies for her behavior, which covered the sound of Jane walking towards her.

"Hey, hey…"

While Maura's eyes were still closed, Jane had swiftly removed the glove on her right hand, and she delicately placed her fingers on Maura's cheek, using her thumb to brush away the few tears that had fallen there. Her heart was racing, possibly with the guilt of having been responsible for causing Maura's sadness. At Jane's touch, Maura had shuddered but not yet opened her eyes, still not wanting to see Jane's expression, sure now that it would just be politely confused or piteous.

"Don't cry for me, Maura, please," Jane whispered, careful not to let her palm touch the porcelain skin that was just beneath it. Instead she let the back of her fingers stroke Maura's cheek, gently ridding it entirely of her tears. "Don't cry for me. I ain't worth it."

At this, Maura finally opened her eyes and looked up at Jane's soulful, sorrowful ones. "You are," she breathed. "Don't ever try to tell me otherwise."

She watched as Jane's gaze dropped briefly to her trembling lips, then slowly back up to her still-wet, bright hazel eyes. "Then don't you ever worry about me being a memory," Jane quietly said back. "I don't usually put much store by what people think of me, but I… I dunno, for some reason, your opinion is important to me."

Maura raised an eyebrow. "If that were true, you wouldn't have fought me so much about the subject of dancing."

They both laughed weakly at that, desperate to return to a happier atmosphere. Jane saw Maura's eyes shift to the side, as if to visually confirm what her sense of touch had told her, that Jane's bare fingers were on her cheek. She then obligingly closed her eyes, turning away and allowing Jane the opportunity to put the glove back on.

After this was silently accomplished, Jane gave the glove and unnecessary extra tug and said, "Shall we dance, then?"

"Yes. Let's begin." Maura took Jane's hand, leading her into the adjacent sitting room where they would have more space to move about. This was especially the case after Jane offered to move a table over to the wall, which she did easily before rejoining Maura in the center of the room. "Go ahead and put your left hand on my waist," Maura instructed, tapping Jane's arm in case she didn't know how to distinguish her left from her right. Jane hesitantly obeyed, letting her hand rest just above the gentle slope of Maura's hip. "Good," Maura said lightly, taking Jane's other hand in her own, and resting the other on Jane's shoulder.

"So—wait, am I leading, then?" Jane asked.

"Yes."

"I don't, uh…maybe you should start, so you can show me."

Maura agreed, and they shifted positions. "All right," Maura said softly. "Follow my lead." She tried to move them, but Jane hadn't stepped back, with the result that Maura inadvertently stepped on her foot. "Oh, sorry!"

"Don't be," Jane said with a nervous chuckle. "That was my fault, I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, hold on," Maura said, stepping away. She walked over to the nicely-sized piano that was in the corner and opened the metronome sitting on top of it. Briefly considering what tempo she ought to set, she finally settled on a very slow one, figuring it would be easier for both her and Jane('s feet) to begin that way. "This will give us a rhythm," she explained, walking back to Jane and taking her hand and waist again. "I must say, this is odd. I'm not accustomed to leading someone taller than me. Anyway—are you ready?"

And so they started again, with Maura moving a little more forcefully so Jane could better anticipate what she ought to be doing. Back, forward, forward and back, to the left and over again before Maura turned them around. Jane dimly recognized that they were essentially moving in a rectangle, but as she continued to stare determinedly at her and Maura's feet to get the movements right, she found herself getting dizzy. Amidst the nervous laughter coming out of her, she finally allowed herself to say, "Am I supposed to feel like I'm about to be sick?"

Maura brought them to a stop and waited for Jane to look up at her. "That can happen sometimes," she said kindly. "Try not to look down; that will make it worse. Look in my eyes. That will anchor you."

"Oh," Jane breathed, knowing how hard this was going to be. "Okay."

As a general rule, Jane didn't like sustaining eye contact for long periods of time with anyone. Unless she was dressed as Jake and about to mow someone down, it made her feel weak and nervous. Something about looking back into Maura's eyes was causing her to feel as though her legs were made of mush, and she hated the thought of Maura knowing she was quaking in her boots. So with another breath, she nodded to the question Maura hadn't asked and allowed her to start the dancing again. This time, though her eyes darted occasionally, bashfully, to the floor, Jane kept them mostly fixed on Maura's.

"You know what I'm realizing right now?" Maura asked, pleased that Jane seemed to have relaxed and fallen into rhythm with her.

"What?"

"You really do have a beautiful smile, Jane."

Jane hadn't even realized she'd been smiling, but at Maura's comment, assumed it was a nervous one. "Ha, no I don't."

"You do. Actually, I suppose I noticed that from the first day I met you. It just never occurred to me to say it until now."

"And why do you think it occurred to you to say it now?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it's because silences tend to make me feel uncomfortable, and I feel that one should try to instigate conversation while dancing to assuage the unease that can sometimes set in."

"Do I make you uneasy?" Jane asked.

Maura opened her mouth to respond, but decided to ignore the question. "It may also have to do with the fact that you smirk a lot. Your smile right now seems sincere."

"I guess that'd be 'cause it is," Jane said. "Sincerely scared."

"Scared? So you don't feel ready to pick up the pace here yet?" Maura asked, still gently leading Jane across the room.

"Maybe not yet," Jane said. "This feels nice, this pace. Comfortable, I mean." _Jane, get it together. Why are you so nervous? This isn't so bad…_ "Hey, what was that song you were singing earlier? In the barn?"

"It's a traditional Scottish folk song," Maura replied. "My mother used to sing it to me when I was a child as a sort of lullaby. Whenever I fussed and I didn't want to go to sleep, or I couldn't _fall _asleep, that song would always do the trick. It soothed me."

"It was nice, I liked it."

"Yes, I—wait, you hadn't heard it before? Weren't you playing along with me on your harmonica?"

"Well yes, but only because I'd been listenin' to ya sing it."

"You picked it up that quickly?"

"Yeah." The smirk was back. "I'm a fast learner." With that, Jane lifted her hand off Maura's shoulder and twirled Maura gently once around by their other intertwined hands. The spin was a bit clumsy, but Maura still appeared very impressed (or at least surprised), and didn't protest when Jane took her waist and started to lead. While Jane wasn't a terribly graceful dancer, she was decent, and Maura had to admit that her energy leant itself well to leading, even when the pace was slow. "How am I doing?" Jane asked.

Maura could only laugh. "You're right. You _are _a fast learner."

"I reckon I have to be. That's the only way to get schooled out on the range. If you fall behind, you don't catch up."

"What about formal education? Reading, writing, arithmetic, all that."

"Got no real use for it," Jane answered. "My dad tried makin' sure we went to school and all that, but more often than not me and Tommy would take off. Frankie's the good one, he stayed in all the time. Smart boy, that one. When Frankie got a little older and held a little more sway, he'd force Tommy to stick around—couldn't make him learn, but wouldn't let him leave."

"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink," Maura said.

"Right. Anyhow, I mostly stopped goin' after we lost my dad. I had to take care of us. Angela helped as much as she could, but I had bigger things on my mind than gettin' an education, I guess. Sometimes I wish that hadn't been the case, but there ain't no use in regretting past mistakes, is there?"

Maura felt herself being twirled again, and realized Jane had quickened their pace slightly, now ignoring the tick-tock of the metronome. "If you could, what would you most like to learn about?" she asked.

There was no hesitation before Jane's answer: "Guess I wish I could write better. Readin's hard enough, but if I take my time, I can sort of figure out simple stuff. I don't hardly know where to begin with writing, though. It'd sure be nice to be able to write my own letters, instead of havin' to go through Frost. I'd write home a lot more. And I'd write to you, too."

"You'd also be able to write down more of your ideas."

"How do you mean?"

"That night we looked at the stars… the way you described the sky—that was so wasted on me alone. I wish you could have written it down and shared it with other people."

"Aw, ain't nobody interested in that kinda stuff, Maura. Are they?"

"I think you'd be surprised." A few moments of thoughtful silence passed before Maura spoke up again: "I couldn't promise to be an outstanding teacher, but… if you'd like me to, I could try teaching you. To write, I mean."

The enormity of this promise caused Jane to stop at once. Her eyes searched Maura's countenance for the slightest hint that this might be a joke, or that she might already regret having made the offer. After all, this would be a significantly more difficult endeavor than teaching her to dance. But all she saw was Maura's earnest smile and happy eyes, all eager and kind. "Would ya really?" Jane asked, her voice little more than a breath.

"Of course," Maura said. "I would certainly try my best. I can't think of a better gift."

Jane's right hand slid unconsciously out of Maura's and went to rest at her waist. "Why're you so… nice to me?" she asked.

"I just want to help you," Maura answered. "After all, despite your mysterious tendency to charade as someone else, you've been very kind and helpful to me. I just want to return the favor to a friend."

"To a…" Jane pulled her hands away and took a step back. "Okay. Do ya mind if we take a break for a minute? I want to check on Jo."

"Oh yes, of course," Maura said, backing away as well and stopping the metronome. When she turned back around, Jane had already left, so she quickly walked out the back door as well. It seemed that concerning Jo's attitude, Maura had been correct: the dog now appeared perfectly content to sit on Jane's lap, letting Jane pet her. "I see you've made up."

"Ah, she's a good dog," Jane chuckled. "Say, Maura… you live like this in Boston?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't know you were _this _high class. How much does Mr. Fairfield make in a year?"

Bringing over the porch chair to sit closer to where Jane was perched on the steps, Maura said, "I hardly think that's a decent question to ask."

"Sorry. It just seems to me… you said Mr. Fairfield wanted to put off getting married until he felt financially secure. How's he afford all this?" she asked rhetorically, waving to the expansive yard and then the house behind her, which had been filled with so many luxurious things. "How can he buy up all these things and not spend that money on you? Ain't you worth more, ain't _bein' _with ya all the time worth more? Ah, sorry," she muttered, looking away from Maura's solemn expression. "I'm just rambling, I know. It's still funny to me to be around people who are so wealthy, I guess. I'm used to just livin' off the land, y'know? So all this stuff, it seems… it seems…"

"Superfluous," Maura offered quietly.

"Super…what?"

"Superfluous. It means extra. Unnecessary."

"Right. Yeah."

Maura sighed heavily. "You make a good point in some ways, Jane. I have always come from affluence, and that is what I am accustomed to. But that's what I've loved about living and working out here. The people are more humble, they don't take things for granted."

"I didn't mean to rag on ya, Maura, or where you've come from. I see you all lookin' nice, and talkin' right and readin' your books, and I… I dunno, I think I missed out."

Jane was concentrated on Jo, looking down at her, and Maura only just shifted her gaze to survey Jane instead of Garrett's yard. In a steady voice, she said "Jane, you're a bright, accomplished woman. Really," she insisted when Jane snorted derisively. "True, it may not be in a traditional sense, but you are. Your marksmanship is excellent, your intuition regarding human interaction is keen, you have a good heart beneath that rugged exterior … and you dance divinely."

This last one got Jane to turn around, and she saw the cheeky look on Maura's face. "Right, I'm a holy terror. I'll go to Stanley's party, but I don't think I'll dance."

"You weren't having fun?"

"Eh, it was too slow to be fun."

"Well you wouldn't let us go any faster."

"I didn't—…hey, where's that music coming from?"

Jane and Jo were both looking up and to the left, trying to locate where the quick-tempo string music was coming from. Maura casually replied, "Oh, that's the banker's wife. She's quite good with the violin, isn't she? I admit that's another reason I brought you by here—she typically practices around this time of day, and it's lovely to listen to. When Garrett's had the time, he and I have often gamboled around this very yard while she plays!"

Not to be outdone by Garrett, Jane picked Jo up off her lap and sat her back down on the porch. "Well then! Who am I to refuse you the same?" She got to her feet and swept into an exaggerated bow. "Shall we have a go at this jig?"

Chuckling, Maura got to her feet and curtsied. "Why sir, I'd be delighted."


	18. A, B, C

**A/N**: Holy cow, you guys. English is the hardest language ever, I'm starting to realize. Anyway, I wanted to thank a couple of you who pointed out this amazing Western R&I photoshop someone did that's floating around tumblr! (almost makes me want to make one. A tumblr, I mean.) Dang, our girls look good! Jane is HOT as usual, and Maura is just lovely. I have to say, it was super exciting to see that because it reminded me so much of this story, haha. Which is pretentious, I know. Sorry!  
>Anyway, on to more random movieHarry Potter references, and some TGTGT!

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><p>After another thirty minutes of very spirited dancing, Jane was completely spent. The banker's wife had just played the final note of a vigorous number, and with no regard whatsoever for decorum, Jane flung herself onto her back on the grass, laughing hysterically. Maura delicately sat down next to Jane, spreading her skirts carefully around her. Jo had hobbled over at the sight of her master going down, and started earnestly licking Jane's face. She couldn't quite comprehend the amused groan that had come out of Jane at the action, but Maura did.<p>

"Josephine Friday, you stop that!" Maura chided her lightly, picking up the little dog and holding her securely on her lap. "Your master needs time to recuperate."

"Oh!" Jane laugh-groaned again. "Ohhh, Maura! How can ya have the energy to keep goin'?"

"You're just not accustomed to it," Maura chuckled. "Although just so you know, it may not be appropriate for you to react quite like this at Stanley's party. By flinging yourself down, I mean."

Jane snorted. "Yeah. Besides, I doubt his floor will be as nicely kept as Mr. Fairfield's lawn here." She sighed deeply, folding her hands on her stomach and staring serenely up at the sky. After a long silence, she said, "Hey, Maura? You know those star drawings you told me about a while ago?"

"Constellations?" Maura asked, smiling at Jane's word choice.

"Yeah, those. Are there cloud constellations?"

Glancing up at the cloudy sky, Maura said, "I don't believe so, no."

"Oh. I guess that's 'cause clouds are never the same, and stars always are, huh?" Squinting, she pointed up at one of the clouds. "See that one? It looks kinda like a rowboat, don't you think?"

Maura turned her head to look, finally resignedly resting on her back and staring upwards, following Jane's finger with her gaze. "Hm, a rowboat? Really? And you said you don't understand art! What an abstract idea."

"Well, what's it look like to you?"

"Oh. I'd say… a duck, perhaps?"

"Huh. I could see that. Hey, look at the sort of tufts on that one," Jane said, shifting her finger. "It looks kinda like a feather."

"Say, I think you're right. A big ole turkey feather!"

Jo, who had been resting on Maura's stomach, suddenly made the leap over to Jane, and both women groaned slightly at the unexpected movement. "Girl, what's got in your head?" Jane chortled, propping herself up on one elbow and rubbing her dog's back. "Did ya hear us talkin' about turkey? Sound good to ya?"

"I don't think so," Maura said, moving back into a sitting position. "The Sheriff said a dog her size ought not to eat poultry."

Frowning, Jane sat up as well, sure to be careful of Jo's recovering paw. "That true? Aw, what a shame. Sorry, girl—you're missin' out." She patted Jo's head, then looked back up at the turkey-feather-cloud. It reminded her of a fancy quill she had once seen Korsak use, which brought her back to the promise Maura had made earlier. "Hey, Maura?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"You reckon you could give me a writing lesson?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

Maura raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Well…"

Jane bit her lip and hurriedly added, "I know you ain't had time to prepare or nothin', but… gosh, I'd really love to start as soon as possible. Just somethin' small, it don't have to be big." She hated sounding so anxious, so desperate, especially as Maura still looked uncertain. So she quickly back-pedaled: "Sorry, Maura—I guess I'm just eager. You don't have to…"

"No, no, I want to," Maura assured her. "I offered, didn't I? I just need a second to think. Can we go back inside? I'm starting to feel drowsy in this heat."

"Mm, it feels good, doesn't it?" Jane hummed, closing her eyes and leaning back on her palms. "Yeah, I could fall asleep out here…"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Maura laughed. "I'm starting to sense a pattern, here! Is that your trick with all the girls, Mr. Wyatt? Get them invested in the sky, and then wait for them to fall asleep?"

"No," Jane snorted, shifting Jo off her lap and standing up, wiping her hands on her pants. Extending a hand towards Maura, she said, "That's just for you."

Maura blushed and took Jane's hand, allowing the taller woman to pull her to her feet. "Well then," she said after an awkward pause. "I'm very flattered."

They headed back into the house, leaving Jo to sleep in the sunny yard. Maura led Jane to the sitting room, where she pulled a nib pen out of Garrett's desk and took a fresh sheaf of paper off the top. She let the pen hover over the first sheet for what felt like an eternity to Jane, before dipping down and scratching away. Jane leaned over to try and see what Maura was doing, but Maura kept the paper inclined privately towards herself, using her other arm as a barrier to Jane's prying eyes. "You'll have to be patient," she said as she wrote. "This most likely won't be easy. You can't expect to learn everything in a day, or a week, or a month."

"I know," Jane said lightly, unconscious of the fact that her leg was jiggling nervously. Clenching her hands at her knees, she added, "Boy, that sure is a long word you're writin'."

"It's the alphabet," Maura explained, finally moving closer to Jane and handing her the sheet and the pen. "Could you recite it?"

After a moment's hesitation, Jane knew they'd get nowhere fast if she lied. "No."

Showing no signs of frustration or surprise, Maura said, "That's all right. Just circle the letters you can recognize."

Jane put the pen between her teeth and stared down at the paper in front of her, where Maura had written out the capital and lower-case of each letter in clear block print. The only letters she could circle both sets for were the ones which looked the same either way—such as _x_, _w_, _c_, _m_—and the ones in her full name. It took more than a minute, and she had to scan the lines several times, but she was ultimately able to circle at least one of nearly all the letters.

"Okay," Maura said patiently. "Could you write your name out for me?"

Shifting out another piece of paper, Jane scribbled _Jake Wyatt_. When she caught sight of Maura's expression, she glanced down at it and realized exactly what she had written. "Uh, sorry …that's the name I'm used to signin', I guess."

"That's all right, we can start with that," Maura said. "Um… do you know why, when combined, those letters are pronounced the way that they are?"

Frowning, Jane stared at the letters a few moments longer and said, "Uh, no, I guess I don't. Never really thought about it before." Maura was about to speak, but Jane quickly added, "I did wonder, though, how come _Wyatt _can't just start with a _y_. Don't _y _make that sound on its own? And how come ya gotta have two _t_'s?"

Now it was Maura's turn to frown. Those were all very valid questions, and ones she wasn't sure how to answer. But Jane was looking at her so earnestly, so hopefully, that Maura knew she had to try. "Well, I suppose that… letters on their own—er, that is—if it were just _y _at the beginning, it would be pronounced _yatt_. And if it were just the _w_, it would be 'watt.' So you need to have them together in order to produce that 'why' sound at the beginning of the word. Do you see?"

"Uh…um…no. I don't think I do."

After another moment's thought, Maura pulled the sheet towards her and gently took the pen out of Jane's hand. Under _Wyatt_, she wrote _yell_, _yelp_, _yawn_, and _you_. Setting down the pen, she said, "All right. Can you read any of these words?"

"Yes," Jane said, about to point.

"Oh! That's another one," Maura said, writing _yes _and underlining it. "See what letter they all start with?"

"Uh…_y_?"

"Exactly! Now as you pointed out, the _y _doesn't always make a, well, 'y' sound. It's more of a 'yuh.'"

"Yuh."

"Right! Yuh. Yes. You. Yawn. Yell."

"Yatt," Jane said, tracing those letters in her pseudonym. "But then…shouldn't _Wyatt _be pronounced more like 'what'?"

"Er, no," Maura said. "When you put another letter in front of the _y_, that changes how it's pronounced. Since _w _makes a 'wuh' sound, when you put it in front of the 'yuh,' it cancels it out, and the _y _goes back to making its 'y' sound. It's the same with, say, the word _lying_, when you have the _l _in front of the _y_."

"Wait, 'lying' like telling a lie?"

"Yes."

Jane laughed victoriously. "Ha! There ain't a _y _in lie! It's _i-e_."

"How'd you know that?"

"'I must not tell lies,'" Jane recited. "That is one of the only things I remember from school. I'd always be late, or makin' excuses for why I was so loud, and the teacher finally called me on it. For a month, every day I showed up to school, she made me write 'I must not tell lies' over and over on the chalkboard." She smirked. "Too bad the message didn't really sink in, huh? Guess it may have, for a while. She had crazy eyes, y'know? Didn't want to cross her. I wouldn't have put it past her to make me carve the words on my hand."

Making a face, Maura said, "Perhaps a tattoo would have served you better—then the message wouldn't ever fade or be erased."

"Well, well! Dr. Isles, talkin' about tattoos!"

"You're surprised?" Maura asked, grinning. "Many of my mother's more scandalous friends had them in Europe. It also seemed to be a trend among sailors, I noticed. They often came to port in Boston, and many of them had anchors or mermaids or ladies' names tattooed on their biceps."

"Biceps? Where's that?"

"On your arm," Maura said, reaching over and taking hold of Jane's bicep. It hadn't occurred to her to demonstrate with her own—Jane's half-sleeves had been rolled up by her shoulders with the workout that had come from the dancing. A bare arm seemed the best way to explain what Maura meant. "So," she said, her voice cracking as her gloved fingers nearly sent goosebumps erupting on Jane's skin, "If they were to get a tattoo of, say, a flag, and then flexed their bicep, it would make it appear as though the flag were waving."

Jane only had a hunch what flexing might mean, and when she did it—"Oh, you mean this?"—Maura felt her breath hitch slightly.

"You're quite strong," she couldn't help saying. "No wonder it was so easy for you to carry me." Her face was starting to feel hot, and if she hadn't been too embarrassed to look at Jane, she'd have seen that her cheeks were reddening as well. She realized her hand had been there for far too long, and pulling it away, tried to cover up with a joke. "That bare bicep is going to waste! Perhaps _you _ought to get a tattoo of a flag! Or a name would do nicely as well, I'm sure."

Self-consciously rolling her sleeves back down, Jane muttered, "I dunno. Ain't a tattoo supposed to be a picture?"

With a shrug, Maura said, "Typically, I suppose. I'm not particularly well-versed in tattoo etiquette. But I do think symbolically, tattooing a name would indicate your permanent love or devotion to a person."

"Oh. I'd have thought it'd be more like branding, like you would a piece of livestock. I like your idea better, though. Wonder if Ruth would've tattooed Naomi's name on her arm."

"Wh—Jane, I thought you told me you didn't know that story."

Now Jane shrugged. "I didn't. A few weeks ago, Frost and me come across a Bible, and I asked him to find Ruth's story and tell it to me. It was nice, I guess. I could see why you liked it, I mean. Got a nice message with no blood or fightin' or anything—be nice to your mother-in-law, and all that. How about you and Mr. Fairfield's Ma? You get along?"

With a rueful smile, Maura said, "We did, yes. She had always wanted a little girl, but instead she got three strapping boys! Adam, Garrett, and Sumner. She always doted on me, and I adored her …she was like my mother whenever I was in Boston. She passed away five years ago… her heart just stopped beating. Poor Garrett was devastated."

"I'm sorry," Jane said quietly. "I'm sure she was a high-class lady." Maura nodded. "Probably wouldn't have approved of tattoos."

That got Maura to laugh. "I should say not!"

Jane leaned back and sighed. "Yeah, Miss Dolores wouldn't have either—too prim for that. I bet otherwise she _would _have made me tattoo 'I must not tell lies' on my forehead!" She chuckled reminiscently, for as much as she'd hated that woman, she was at least part of a memory of better, easier times. "Wonder whatever happened to her. Guess she got married, even if she _was _an old harpy. One day she just up and left town, and nobody ever told us where she gone. Tommy liked to go around sayin' wild horses dragged her away in the middle of the night, but I don't think that was the case…" As Maura chuckled at that, Jane leaned forward, dragging the long-neglected pen and paper towards her. "He was _lying_," she said, trying to write out the word that had started this whole digression. She got as far as _lie_, then paused, then hesitantly added a _y_. "Wait, how d'you…?"

Maura gently took the pen and wrote out _lying_. "That's where the _y _goes."

"Well how come it goes there?" Jane asked, starting to get frustrated. "Is it…_ying_? Like —runn_ing_, or yell_ing_, or…no," she sighed. "That ain't right, is it?"

"The English language is more complex than I thought," Maura admitted.

A sound came out of Jane's mouth that sounded like a mix of a groan and a laugh. "Tell me about it! I can't believe you know more than one language!"

"It helps to learn them when you're younger," Maura said awkwardly.

"Oh," Jane said, scratching her head. "I thought when ya got older, you got smarter. But …I guess when you're young, you're used to learnin' stuff, huh?" She clasped her hands together under her chin and tried not to sound as afraid as she felt when she asked, "So? Am I a lost cause?"

Maura searched Jane's dark, desperate eyes. "No," she said softly. "Not in my opinion. I believe you show a lot of promise."

Jane's smile was genuine as she slid her cheek into her palm, blushing lightly. "You really think so?"

"Sure," Maura said with a grin, pulling her gaze away from Jane's. "You have a questioning mind and you want to learn. You just have to learn how to apply your intelligence, I suppose. Look at your name here." She wrote _Jane _beneath _Jake_. "Why did you choose the name Jake?"

"It sounds like Jane."

"Right. See the way they're spelled? Three of the four letters are the same."

Jane traced them again, her index finger stopping on the third letters. "Oh, yeah! _N_, and… kuh… kuh…?"

"K."

"Right. K. Jake. Okay doctor, tell me this." She scribbled out Frankie's name and said, "Frankie and I both got names that end with _e_. So how come you can hear his 'e' and not mine?"

"Because his has an _i _in front of it. You know how Angela calls you Janie?" She slipped an _i _between the _n _and _e_. "See? The _i-e_ put together would make an 'e' sound."

"So…so how come there's an _e _at the end of _my_ name?"

Maura crossed out the _i-e_. "Otherwise you would just have Jan."

"So it changes the… sound of the _a_? 'Cause with the _e_, it's 'Jay,' but without it, it's like 'Jah." Encouraged by Maura's nod, Jane said, "So if you took the _i-e _off Frankie's name, he'd be… Fran...k!" Her excited smile slid off when Maura narrowed her eyes. "Or…no? Boy, you were right. English _is _tough." She dejectedly threw down the pen with a dismal sigh. "Maybe I should just give up."

"What? No! Jane, what did I tell you not ten minutes ago? No one learns to write in a day. This will take time, but I believe you can do it. You said you're a fast learner—prove it! Don't give up now. _Never _give up!"

"Never surrender," Jane murmured with a sad smile. "Maura, I don't wanna waste your time. I mean, you ain't a teacher, so you shouldn't have to try and educate a know-nothin' like me."

Pursing her lips, Maura surveyed Jane carefully, trying to figure out what her response was supposed to be. "Would you… like me to put you in contact with the new schoolteacher?"

"No," Jane pouted.

"Do you want me to ask Frankie if he'll help you?"

"No," she said, a little more forcefully.

"Well—" Maura sighed shortly. "If I had some time to plan out some things, would you let _me_ continue trying to teach you?"

Jane's slow grin returned. "Yeah."

Maura laughed wearily. "You're a strange one, Calamity Jane, but I'll try my best." She collected the sheaf of paper they had been using, thoughtlessly straightening it out. "That'll have to be all for today, though. I need time to think."

"Wait, wait," Jane said, touching Maura's wrist to keep her from putting the pen away. "Um… would you write your name for me? I'd like to see how it looks." What she neglected to mention was how many nights she'd been up the last few weeks attempting to figure it out. Sometimes when she couldn't sleep, she would even try tracing out letters in the dirt with her finger or a stick, trying to figure out how "Maura Isles" was spelled. She could never get very far.

Apparently pleased by Jane's request, Maura leaned over and wrote out her name. "There you are."

Jane eagerly turned the sheet back towards herself, but shook her head as she studied out the letters. "Gee, that is… not even close to anything I coulda come up with. Are you _sure_ that's how it's spelled? M-a-…"

"U."

"U-r-a. Shouldn't that be Mah-you-rah?"

Maura couldn't help giggling, not unkindly. "Again, that's something I never considered! I suppose it goes back to the notion that some letters change their sound when placed together, like _a _and _u_."

"Maauura," Jane drawled out. "Shouldn't that be like an _o _sound? More-a?"

"Very good," Maura laughed. "It does make an _o _sound." She chuckled ruefully. "Oh, dear. That takes me back to my childhood. Some of the other girls used to tease me by calling me Maura the bore-a." She shrugged sadly. "Not a real word, of course, but it was the only way they could rhyme. They thought I was boring."

"You?" Jane asked disbelievingly. "How on earth could anyone find _you _boring? You're the most interesting person I know!"

"Oh, Jane—"

"No, I mean it! Come on." She held out her hands and took both of Maura's, keeping her eyes locked determinedly on Maura's wet, somber ones. "You can do so many things, you know so much, you're so—_accomplished!_ I mean, look at ya! You can dance, you can heal people, you can shoot an arrow, you speak three languages…! How—_how _could anybody find you a bore?" No one had ever looked at Jane like this before. She knew Maura was listening to her, really listening, but more importantly, that she was believing what Jane was saying. It looked as though she were on the verge of tears again, although this time they were grateful ones. "You," Jane said in a level voice, "are _not _boring. There ain't an uninteresting bone in your body."

"Thank you," Maura whispered.

"Don't thank me," Jane said back, smiling lightly as she rubbed her thumbs over Maura's fingers. "It's all you." There was a relaxed pause as Maura let these sentiments sink in. After a few more quiet moments, Jane gently pulled her hands away and asked, "So how about Isles, then? How come you don't say it Is-les?"

With a sigh and a laugh, Maura said, "You've got me again. Although in my defense, I believe the name is Irish, and it may be Gaelic at that."

"Gaelic?"

"Yes, it's… well, an old language spoken in some parts of the United Kingdom."

Jane just shook her head in disbelief again. "Does your brain ever hurt from all the smarts ya got crammed in there?"

"I should think not," Maura scoffed, putting her chin in her hand. "After all your thought-provoking questions, I'm starting to feel like a bit of a moron."

"Ha! If you're a moron, I hate to think what that makes me!"

"Jane, you're not a moron."

"Nah, I am. I'm an idiot," Jane said, casually as if this were fact, not opinion.

"Well, everyone's an idiot in their own way, I suppose," Maura said.

Jane laughed. "Some of us more than others. Man, we're a pair." Maura chuckled at that, and then Jane slapped a hand down on the table. "Okay. My turn. I get to teach _you_, now."

"To ride? I thought you said I needed pants, and I haven't got any."

"Hm, fair point. Let's go to a tailor then! Get you suited up proper. And don't worry," she said at Maura's alarmed expression, "we got seamstresses who can measure you up." Though Maura appeared vastly unprepared for such a venture right now, it only seemed fair to appease Jane at least enough to see a tailor. And it was worth it to see Jane's smile. "Great! Where should I put Mr. Fairfield's gloves?"

They had looked so good on Jane that Maura had forgotten the gloves belonged to Garrett. "Oh—that table over there, the top drawer."

She stayed seated as Jane pulled her old rough gloves out of her back pocket, walking to the table Maura had indicated. It felt funny to replace Garrett's sleek, smooth gloves with her scratchy, worn ones. Jane tended to be bitter towards people with money, which made her feel like a hypocrite for suddenly wanting nicer things, like these gloves… and she was especially tempted when she opened the drawer to put the gloves back and saw a box labeled with one of the few other words she could easily recognize.

"Ooh. What kind of cigars does Garrett Fairfield smoke?" she asked, pulling out the thin black box and sliding off the top. "Wow," she breathed. The cigars were so crisp, so dark, that they looked as if they belonged in a museum—certainly not shut away in a box in a drawer.

Maura had since walked over. "Oh, I bought those for him. If he insists on smoking, he might as well have the best." She noticed Jane wasn't really listening; she was staring almost hungrily at the cigars. "Do you smoke?" Maura asked, sounding surprised even though she felt immediately afterwards that she shouldn't have been.

Looking guilty, Jane said, "Jake does."

And though she never would have offered one to another woman, Maura understood that Jane was an exception. "Would you like one?"

Jane shrugged, but was grinning as she slipped one hand into her pocket. "I dunno, I don't wanna take one of Mr. Fairfield's cigars…"

"Nonsense," Maura said, taking the box out of Jane's hands. "I bought them, and I'm offering one to you." She took one of the top cigars out, then shut the box and placed it back in the drawer. Jane reached for it, but Maura held up her empty hand to signal she had to wait. Arching an eyebrow, Jane stuck her other hand in her pocket, and her heart raced inexplicably as she watched Maura slide the cigar between her thumb and index finger. She then moved the length of it beneath her nose, inhaling deeply. "Have you any matches?" Jane could only nod, her throat oddly dry. Maura led the way back outside. "Well, you are not smoking indoors." She handed the cigar to Jane only when the woman had obediently sat down on the topmost porch step.

It was strange—Maura realized she had never seen anyone but her father smoke, and his was just an old pipe before bed as a habit. Garrett had never had the indecency to smoke in her presence, and even if he'd asked her permission, she probably would have asked him not to. It seemed indecent, and besides, she thought it a rather unfortunate habit. But she was strangely curious to watch Jane smoke, and so pulled over the porch chair to sit by her.

Jane got a packet of matches out of her vest and struck one of them against the porch. The cigar was clamped between her teeth, and Maura watched in fascination as Jane held one hand around the tiny, flickering flame to protect it from the breeze, then lit the cigar. With one strong flick of her wrist, the match was extinguished; with another, it had disappeared into the yard somewhere. After a long pause, Jane took a draw, holding the cigar between her index and middle finger. When she pulled it out, she rolled it slightly, closing her eyes and parting her lips just enough to exhale the smoke.

"Ahh," she sighed, holding the cigar out enough to look at it. "That is a _fine_ cigar."

"Really?" Maura asked, very pleased. "Garrett never mentioned…"

"Oh, yeah," Jane said, her voice little more than a rumble in the back of her throat. She closed her eyes again and returned the cigar to her mouth, completely unaware of how closely Maura was observing her. She admired the perfect symmetry in how Jane's lips circled the cigar; the way she held it, like it was heavy, like it might have been a weapon. Jane was exercising a quiet sort of control, as though the cigar signified she was undoubtedly in charge. The thought passed through Maura's mind that if Jane were to issue her any kind of order while smoking that cigar, no matter how ridiculous or risqué the command was, Maura would probably do it.

Like, for example, wearing pants.

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><p><strong>A****N**: So I'm tempted to call the next chapter "Do Re Mi"...but I won't. Reviews are the best!


	19. The Best Inadvertent Wingman in the West

**A/N**: First off, I love you all. It's gratifying to hear that some of you read this at work, because to be honest, sometimes I write this when I'm at school or at work, haha. (Actually, the other day I saw a girl at school with Jane Rizzoli hair. It was really hard not to be like "please take me home.") Also, I agree with what most of you said about smoking ...I think it's kinda nasty in person, but it can be really sexy with some people. Like Jane and a cigar. And in film noir, the sexiest of all genres, and the one which has inspired my idea for my next AU. Anyway...

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><p>For the last ten minutes, Jane and Maura had been sitting in complete, comfortable silence, Jane watching Jo and Maura watching Jane. Jo was sleeping but appeared to be having some sort of dream, because every now and then, she would suddenly twist her head or kick the air and whimper, and Jane thought it was hilarious. For her own part, Jane was still enjoying the heck out of Garrett's cigar, reveling as she always did in the power she felt such an act bestowed upon her. Actually, she tended to feel that way any time she did something particularly, overtly masculine (which, admittedly, was most of the time). After a few minutes, she had forgotten that Maura was even sitting by her until the woman finally shifted in her chair, and Jane quickly pulled the cigar out of her mouth, holding it with her first three fingers.<p>

"Maura, I feel kinda bad smokin' in front of ya," she said, turning to look at her. "I know it ain't decent, and I ain't never smoked in front of ladies before."

"I feel glad that you're comfortable doing it in front of me," Maura said, although she found she didn't care much for the smell. _Oh, if only it weren't such a disgusting habit!_

In fact, her facial expression betrayed her and Jane chuckled. "Yes, I can see you're just thrilled. Look, we can go right now if you want. I'm sorry you had to sit and watch me for so long! What a bore _I_ must be. C'mon, let's go get you tailored up."

"No," Maura protested lightly. "You haven't finished your cigar." She didn't know much about smoking, but when she had been shopping for a good brand for Garrett, the salesman had made quite a big deal out of the fact that these cigars could last for hours. In so doing, he explained that a cigar literally burnt itself out, and that it got shorter the longer you smoked it. Jane still seemed to have a long way to go.

Jane considered this as well, inspecting the cigar in her hand. "It _does _seem a shame to waste it…"

"On the other hand," Maura found herself saying, "Consider it a grand gesture. A luxury. Do men need cigars to survive? Of course not. They're just a nicety. You needn't scrounge for them. Go ahead and throw the rest of it away."

An unwilling smile had crept onto Jane's face as Maura talked. She felt as though she ought to be self-conscious having Maura bring up money like this, but instead she was able to focus on what Maura was _trying _to tell her. Act like you're wealthy. It's not a big deal. "Okay," she said. "I think I will." She grinned and stuck the cigar back in her mouth, getting to her feet and stretching. Again Maura found herself struck by Jane's anatomy, even as Jane had her back to her and flexed her back and shoulders. "Phew! I been sittin' too long," she said, turning around and picking up her vest where it had long been discarded on the porch. Instead of putting it back on, she slung it over her shoulder with her free hand.

"I do have one question," Maura said, also standing. "Can you… um… well, I'm just curious, you understand. My father used to blow rings of smoke for my entertainment when I was a child, and I… I always wondered how one did it. Have you ever…?"

Typically Jane would leave the cigar between her teeth to respond (out of laziness), but she didn't feel proper responding to Maura that way. So she smiled and pulled it back out, saying, "Yeah, I can blow smoke rings. Not when there's a breeze, though; it'll throw 'em off. Next time we're together and the wind is at peace, I'd be happy to play your dad." It was another one of those comments that had passed through her lips before her brain could approve, making for an odd silence, which Jane bravely attempted to quash by changing the subject. "The way you uh, put out a cigar is just to let it burn itself out, so …I don't wanna leave it hangin' around Garrett's house, or else he may wonder who exactly you had over here. Would you mind if I smoke a bit more while we walk to the tailor's?"

"Uh…no, not if you don't. Is it a far walk?"

"Not really, actually. It's—well, it used to be on this end of town, but now _you're _on this end of town… I mean, the tailor used to be the end of town. But since I been gone, this whole area," she said, gesturing to Garrett's and the surrounding houses, "has been added."

"In that case, I will follow your lead."

Jane nodded, then twisted around and hollered, "JO! Get up, girl!"

"Oh dear, shouldn't you hold her?" Maura asked, as Jo instantly sat up and shuffled lamely over to them.

"Maura, I once walked ten miles with one of my legs bleedin' out," Jane answered. "If Jo can't keep up with a sore paw, she ain't gonna be able to keep up any place else."

"Aren't you the one who just told me to make sure your dog stays safe?"

"Yeah," Jane said, pressing Maura's shoulder lightly. "_If _anything happens to me. So long as I'm around, she's gotta learn to adjust fast. I coddled her already, and you took out the stinger. She'll be okay. Now come on, don't be a slow coach."

"Hold on a moment," Maura said, heading for the porch door. "I'll meet you back around the front of the house." Once inside, she hurried to the desk they had been using earlier and collected the papers they had written on. Quickly folding them in half, she also grabbed her parasol and then walked back to the front door, where Jane was waiting for her. "Here," she said, handing the papers over. "Perhaps tonight you could work on your penmanship."

"Gee, thanks, Maura," Jane said, taking the folded papers and sticking them in her back pocket. "I sure will. Now let's get goin' before the tailor decides to close shop."

She set a slow pace, mostly because Jo _was_ struggling to keep up, but also because Maura's shoes and attire kept her from being able to go too fast. They had again lapsed into a comfortable silence, the difference being that this time, Jane was very aware of Maura's presence. There was no getting around the fact that she enjoyed strutting around as Jake Wyatt, knowing she inspired awe and fear with every footstep. In a different way, she also liked walking around Hollow Creek with Frankie and Tommy, happy to be surrounded by family in a setting where she felt like she could just be herself. But this, walking with a cigar in her mouth, Maura by her side and Jo Friday just behind, was inexplicably different. It felt… right. More than right, though. Nice, and more than nice. Her own gait was long and relaxed, and she noticed Maura had to move at a slightly faster pace (though not exerting herself too much) to keep up. Jane tossed her cigar in a half-full rain barrel, one hand still holding her vest over her shoulder, and Maura—open parasol leaning against her shoulder—occasionally waved with her free hand at a neighbor she recognized sitting on his porch as they passed. The sun was, as always, very present, but its rays were not beating down relentlessly. It merely provided the light necessary to admire the town, to admire the day, to admire Maura in her glorious femininity…

Before Jane had time to really question why she was thinking this way, they had arrived at the tailor's (Jo hung obediently back at the porch). She was sad to learn that the tailor she had been used to seeing all her life had passed away, leaving behind his widow, who was his top seamstress. Adelaide Johns was as sweet an old woman as you could get, though she had plenty of spunk to back it up when called for. In fact she was the only woman in Hollow Creek besides Angela who Jane had ever really cared for going up, simply because the woman was too fun not to love. When Jane and Maura walked into the shop, Adelaide rejoiced at seeing both of them, because in the last month, she had called upon Dr. Isles several times for help with her back pain.

Unfortunately, the new tailor was not quite as much of a delight. Almost instantly upon meeting Arnold Whistler, Jane decided she didn't like him. He gave Jane the impression that he was one of those men who mentally undressed women every time he looked at them for longer than three seconds. That was unacceptable behavior, even for a tailor.

"So you're gonna ride, huh?" he asked Maura once she had explained their purpose in coming to the shop.

When it appeared as though he was about to walk indecently close, Jane stepped protectively between him and Maura. "Yes, she's been out West a whole month and we figured it was high time she learned how to really ride like one of us. Ain't that right, Maura?"

"Er, yes," Maura said, also unappreciative of the way Arnold was looking at her.

"Well, Adelaide's assistant is out today," Arnold said, leering and holding up a measuring tape.

The smirk fell off his face when Adelaide smacked him between the shoulder blades with a ruler, and the tape spooled to the floor. "That's all right, Mr. Whistler," she said. "Jane can help me. Jane! Pick up that measuring tape. You'd better watching your manner, Mr. Whistler," she added, raising her voice as she led Jane and Maura to a back room. "That's Calamity Jane you're talking to, and she'd sooner shoot you than look at you if you don't act nice."

"It's true," Jane snickered, looking over her shoulder to smirk at Arnold. He jumped when she lazily pulled out her gun, sticking the barrel through the hole in the middle of the measuring tape. Once they had reached the privacy of the back room, she said, "Heck, Adelaide! What's this about you needing an assistant?"

Adelaide laughed and it was a tired sound as she sank wearily into a tall-backed chair. "This spirited old body ain't what it used to be, Jane!" She flexed (or tried her best) her old arthritic fingers and sighed. "I get tired more easily and can't do seams as well as I'd like. Plus you can ask Dr. Isles about my back!" she laughed, leaning forward and jabbing a thumb behind her. "I can't bend down so good anymore. Now Maura, dear—you wanted… riding pants, is that right?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Ma'am! So polite!" she said, her eyes twinkling. "Jane, why can't you be more like that?"

Jane grinned at Maura, who was feigning a holier-than-thou expression. "You're lucky I like you so much, Maura. Otherwise I'd most likely get to hatin' you quite a bit, what with everybody in town comparin' me to you all the time!"

"Now you calm yourself down, Calamity Jane," Adelaide chided her. "You know I was just teasing you; I wouldn't have you any other way. You, my dear, are what we call an individual. There ain't anyone else like ya anywhere in the world. Heaven knows we don't need more than one of ya! But as sure as you're born, I'm glad we _do _have the blessed one of ya."

"Well thank you, Adelaide!"

"You're welcome! Now take off Maura's clothes."

This was an unexpected shift. "What?" the women asked in shocked unison.

Adelaide raised her eyebrows, surprised at their surprise. "Jane, you said you would be my assistant. I need Maura's measurements, which will be difficult to determine precisely without removing all those layers! Maura, dear, you needn't strip _entirely_, of course, but if we're to make you a proper pair of pants, you'll need to give us better access to those legs of yours! Even if you'd just like a split skirt, we still need that."

"A split skirt, what's that?" Maura asked.

"Just what it sounds like. Most women prefer it, because the pant legs resemble more of a skirt shape. In fact sometimes it even _looks _as though you're wearing a skirt, they flare out so wide! But you can straddle a horse no problem in 'em. Would you like a pair of those?"

"Yes, I think I would."

Nodding, Adelaide said, "Split skirt it is, then. Well, Jane? What are you waiting for? We're all girls together; help the customer with her clothes."

Maura spoke up: "Really, Adelaide, that isn't necessary. I am quite capable of undressing myself, you know. In fact, I've been doing it for quite some time now."

Appearing unfazed, Adelaide tried to placate her: "My dear, I know you are _capable_; that's hardly the point. We want you to feel like you're in good hands here, taken care of, don't we Jane?" When Jane's only response was some kind of noncommittal grunt, Adelaide clicked her tongue. "Oh, I forgot how sensitive you are about your hands, Jane. Those are very small, fine buttons on Maura's dress, and I'm afraid those thick gloves of yours won't do. Come here." She beckoned imperiously and Jane hastened over. Smacking a nearby desk, Adelaide said, "Top drawer. Find a pair that fits and keep them! I can't in good conscience send you away from a tailor's with those ratty old things. And unless you've grown since you left, I still have your measurements and could got some suspenders done for you."

"Uh…sure, thanks, Adelaide," Jane muttered, careful to keep her back to the other two women in the room as she again discarded her own pair of gloves. The ones she pulled on felt like new, and were made of a very thin, very soft material. They seemed to Jane to be a slightly more working-class version of the gloves Maura always wore. Inhaling sharply, she turned back around and walked straight to Maura, her fingers moving quickly to the top button on the doctor's jacket. She worked in silence, concentrating solely on the task of undoing the tiny, delicate buttons. The dedication prevented her from fumbling, but also prevented her from noticing Maura's reaction to this procedure.

Not that she'd have been able to read Maura's expression, as Maura herself had no idea why she felt so strange. In her experience, it was not unusual to be undressed by women when she was being fitted for clothes. And whenever she had visited Europe as a teenager, her mother had always insisted on a maid helping Maura with her clothes. It had never bothered her before or seemed particularly odd. So why, then, did it with Jane? Why did her breath hitch when Jane's fingers nimbly passed over her breasts? Why did it feel as though this were an invasion of privacy? Why did she feel so tense? Why did she wish there were more buttons to be undone?

For Jane had finished, and moved quickly behind Maura to slide the jacket off. As one hand lingered unnecessarily on Maura's waist, Jane snorted, "Cheater."

"Excuse me?" Maura asked.

"You're wearin' a corset! And all this time I thought that was your own figure."

Adelaide chimed in: "Jane, don't be silly. Can't you see the doctor has a lovely figure on her own? She's only wearing the corset out of habit, because it's expected."

"Well what's the point if nobody even knows it's there?" Jane asked.

"_She _knows it's there," Adelaide said, again with that authoritative tone and smile which made it clear she was not to be questioned further.

Maura's corset was indeed being worn as a mere formality, and did very little to further accentuate what was already a fine figure. Jane had felt the hard casing beneath a trimly-cut, high-collared full-sleeved blouse that tucked into the very full skirt which matched Maura's removed jacket in color. It was a deep green that really brought out the green in her eyes, which Jane had noticed but hadn't known how to bring up.

"Dear, I'm assuming you wanted a new riding jacket as well?" Adelaide asked.

"Oh but I have one already for my riding habit."

"Yes, for your riding habit. But my goodness, Maura, you can't simply go wantonly mixing and matching various jackets with various skirts, you know!" Adelaide gasped, looking aghast at the very idea.

Though Jane thought this was the stupidest notion she'd ever heard, Maura very seriously responded, "Of course, Adelaide. You're right."

"You're darn right I am," the old woman said with a curt nod. "I may not be too bright, but I know what I'm talking about when it comes to fashion. I've been in this industry longer than twice your life over. How old _are _you, dear, anyway?"

"Twenty-five."

Another loud gasp, and this time Adelaide put a hand over heart as though preparing for the possibility of an attack. "Twenty-five? And you're not yet married?"

"Mr. Fairfield and I are engaged to be wed within in the year," Maura said nervously.

"Do you realize I had been married eight years and had four children by the time I was your age?" Adelaide asked.

"Uh…no, I did not realize that."

"Well, I did! Jane, how old are you?"

"Um…twenty." And though Maura threw her an annoyed look—_traitor!_—Jane was more concerned about preventing Adelaide from having a heart attack. "Times are changin', Adelaide. I figure I still got time."

"Hmm, we'll see about that, Calamity Jane. Now are you going to make Maura wait any longer? I'm sure she's eager to be done with all of this so she can get back to this Mr. Fairfield fellow. Take off the boots."

With a nod, Jane muttered something incomprehensible and walked back around to Maura's front. As Jane got on her knees, Maura helpfully held up her skirts, revealing the tops of her tall, embroidered suede boots. Jane had to chuckle to herself as she thought this was reminiscent of the first night she and Maura had ever been together, when Maura had taken off the boots Angela had foisted upon Jane, massaging her feet… Jane had no intention to reciprocate this action, but still it weighed heavily on her mind as she finally finished undoing the laces on Maura's left boot.

"Jane? Would it disturb your concentration if I sat down?" Maura asked.

"Hm? Oh, of course, please." As Maura collapsed into a nearby chair, Jane looked over her shoulder at Adelaide, who seemed to enjoy making her so uncomfortable. "You know, Miss Johns, it might've reflected well on ya to think to offer a chair in the first place."

Adelaide just shrugged. Maura tried to catch her breath. It would have been awkward trying to stand while Jane removed her boots, but she also acknowledged that her legs had been about to give way for reasons she did not entirely understand. All she knew was that if she hadn't sat down immediately, there would have been a very good chance she'd have fallen right to the floor. Perhaps the heat was getting to her… too many layers …she really ought to start wearing her hair up…

When Jane pulled off the boot with one hand, the other trailed the back of Maura's shin down to her heel, lightly stroking the stocking-clad skin as each inch of it was revealed. It dawned on Jane that she had never actually been in a position like this before, to admire the simple natural beauty of another woman's body. She found herself thinking, wondering if beneath those stockings and many layers of petticoats, Maura's legs were as smooth and as clean as her unblemished arms. As she hurried to take off the other boot, the thought crossed Jane's mind that she and Maura really were opposite in every way possible—she very highly doubted she had ever been even close to this clean in her whole life.

"There you are," she said softly, once she had removed the second boot. "You uh, ready to stand up again? If that's all right with _you, _that is," Jane smirked, turning again to look at Adelaide.

"Of course," the woman answered, looking on approvingly as Jane got to her feet and offered a hand to Maura, who accepted the help in standing. "Get going on those skirts."

Jane nodded and situated her hands at the small of Maura's back. She told herself repeatedly that there was absolutely no reason for her to feel as nervous as she did. None whatsoever. So she was undressing Maura, so what? Women saw other women do things like this all the time. It's not a big deal. When she finally found the long, rectangular button which would release the skirt when unclasped, an idea struck her: maybe she felt strange because in this act of closeness, she was being reminded yet again of Maura's status over her. Being well dressed was indicative of wealth and good breeding, and Jane figured she must still be feeling self-conscious about her lack of all those things. But why should that make her nervous? _Pull it together, Rizzoli! You're a woman! There's nothing wrong with this, nothing immoral about it! Adelaide's right, we're all girls together!_

Adelaide's voice broke into her reverie: "Jane! Pay attention to what you're doing!"

"Oh—sorry," Jane mumbled. She had been thoughtlessly tugging at the skirt with a bit more roughness than was called for, and glancing apologetically at Maura, got to her knees to finish the job. As she pulled down, Maura stepped out, and after a few more moments of awkward struggling, the skirt was successfully removed, and Jane straightened back up with it in her hands. Again she turned quickly, painfully aware of the fact that she was avoiding Maura's eyes as she laid the skirt carefully on top of a table near the peg where she'd hung Maura's jacket.

"Goodness, my dear, how many petticoats is it the fashion to _wear _in Boston?" Adelaide asked, staring unabashedly at Maura's many drawers.

"Well, there's not a precise number," Maura said, "but I think bustles are an atrocity, and layers get nearly the same effect."

The top petticoat pretty closely followed the shape of the skirt, and lest Adelaide come over and smack Jane on the head for her continued hesitancy, Jane set to work pulling out the knot of the drawstring in the back. Her efforts were quickly rewarded and the fabric gave way; she waited to pull it off, holding the garment in one hand as she fought briefly with the ties on the two significantly thinner layers that had been beneath it. Gathering all three layers in her shaking hands, Jane repeated the process of kneeling down to the floor as she gently pulled down. This time, Maura unconsciously put a hand on Jane's shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of the skirts. With a shuddering breath, Jane tried to clear her throat as she took the three petticoats in hand and laid them over the full skirt on the table.

"All right," Adelaide said, getting wearily to her feet. "I think that should be sufficient enough to let us begin measuring."

Maura was standing before them in an odd state of half-dress: her upper half was entirely covered and could have likely been worn outdoors without any undue embarrassment or indecency. Her lower half, however, had been reduced to white stockings and pantalets that narrowed as they went down, stopping just below her knees.

"Wait—_us?_" Jane asked Adelaide. "Ain't my work done here?"

"I'm afraid not, dear," Adelaide said sweetly, adjusting the enormous pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose. "I'll read the measurements, but I need you to use the tape. Let's get the waist first. That is of course, assuming you will be wearing this corset beneath your jackets, Maura?"

Maura nodded.

"I swear, Adelaide," Jane muttered, again getting on her knees in front of Maura. "Er… where should I…?"

Adelaide sighed, patting Jane condescendingly on the head. "Oh, you're helpless, dear. Maura, you've had this done before. Help her."

"Uh, well," Maura said, her hands restlessly moving to her hips. "Waist circumference is generally measured around the narrowest point between the ribs and the hips after exhalation." She issued a very loud, heavy breath to exaggerate this point, but Jane still appeared lost. "Here," she said, lifting Jane's hands and guiding the tape around the correct area. She resisted the urge to suck in as Jane held the tape steady enough for Adelaide to read the large numbers inscribed on it and record them. When she asked Jane to do the hips, the heat finally got to Maura and she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto the table holding the rest of her clothes.

Looking oddly pained, Jane squinted up at Adelaide. "Hips?" she asked, as if she had never heard the word before.

With the patience of a mother explaining to her slowest child that one and one is two, Adelaide said, "Yes. Move the tape down around those lovely buttocks of Dr. Isles'." When Jane did nothing but laugh uncomfortably at the word choice, Adelaide explained, "You know what those are, I presume? The back of the hips that form the fleshy parts on which a person sits?"

"Whoa there," Jane chuckled. "How much time _have _you been spendin' with Maura, Adelaide? You're starting to talk like her."

"I take that as a compliment," Adelaide said.

"Thank you, Adelaide," Maura said. "Although I have to say, I'm not entirely pleased with the English language when it comes to naming that part of the human body. I much prefer French: _derriere_."

"Ooh! That _does _sound much classier, I must say," Adelaide giggled.

"Mm, I dunno," Jane mused from the floor. "I think I still prefer 'ass.'"

She knew she shouldn't swear in front of people like Maura or Adelaide, but she was unable to resist, even though she fully expected (and received) a smack on the head from the latter. "Really, Jane," Maura sighed. "You don't even make an honest effort! The way a person speaks can have such an impact on how other people perceive them. Just try it: _derriere_. It rolls off the tongue very nicely."

Though sullen, Jane looked up into Maura's eyes. "_Derriere_," she husked, moving the measuring tape down to said part of Maura's body and also cuing Maura to make a mental note—the implications of which she would not understand for quite some time—to never again allow Jane to speak French when her mouth was mere inches away from Maura's crotch. The discomfort only increased when Jane brought her fingers there to hold the tape for Adelaide.

"Good gracious, Jane, you're trembling like a leaf," Adelaide muttered, furrowing her brow as she tried to read the numbers. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Jane said defensively, feeling hot under her collar. "I just ain't cut out for this kind of work is all, Adelaide."

"Holding tape measures? Yes, it's one of the more difficult tasks known to mankind," Adelaide deadpanned as Jane stood up. When she moved to walk away, Adelaide said, "Ah, ah! Jane, we still need the bust."

"You can do the bust," Jane grunted, trying to hand her the tape measure. "You don't have to bend over for that!"

"I know, dear, but that's the fun in having an assistant," Adelaide said sweetly. "Besides, it isn't often I get to see you this uncomfortable."

"I am not uncomfortable," Jane insisted.

"Good. There's no reason you should be. Honestly, you two are both acting like silly schoolgirls," Adelaide said. "Maura, don't think I haven't noticed your squirming, even if Jane hasn't! Dear, I know she dresses like a man and swears like one too, but Jane is a woman just like you and me. You don't need to associate her mind with one like Arnold Whistler's out there—such a horrid, indecent man!"

Jane figured that talking would help keep her mind off what she was doing as she looped the measure around Maura again. "Why d'you work for him if you dislike him so much?" she asked, pulling the tape up around Maura's bust.

As she held it loosely there, Maura felt the need to say, "You have to make it tighter, Jane."

"Yes, Jane, pull tighter," Adelaide said, and Jane immediately obeyed. This time she forced her to hands to remain steady, which required extra ocular focus, which meant it was hard to avoid the fact that her eyes were trained directly on her friend's ample _décolletage _(as Maura might have called it). As she read the tape, Adelaide chuckled, "Well, well, Maura, it seems God saw it fit to bestow quite a bust on you, didn't He?"

As the question was both awkward and rhetorical, Maura didn't answer and Jane stepped quickly away. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle dressing Maura again, and fortunately was saved from having to do so when Jo started barking quite anxiously outside.

"That sounds like Josephine," Maura said.

The next sound they heard was gunshot followed by ominous silence, and for a few terrifying moments, Jane and Maura feared the worst. But Jo's barking resumed, and Jane rushed for the door. "If you'll excuse me, ladies," she said, "Duty calls."

She raced out of the curtain door and passed a startled-looking Whistler, who had been making a deal with a new customer. Barely paying them any mind, Jane just hurried to get outside, not caring what the problem was, because she was sure whatever it was would be easier to handle than Maura Isles and her garments.

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><p><strong>AN**: So...this is hard, haha. I mean technically this is only the third day they've known each other, and I'm afraid I may have taken it too far in this chapter. Hope not. Whatever's on your mind, please let me know in a review! They are the best. Seriously.


	20. Do it For Her

**A/N**: Phew! This one's long, because I really don't know when I'm going to be able to update again (possibly not until next week... depends on how much work I can get done). I have to say that while the beginning may not be as exciting as the last chapter sort of set up, I do like how it ends, if I may be so obnoxious.

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><p>When Jane got outside, it was to see that Jo was cowering behind a stack of crates on Whistler's porch, still barking furiously. A bullet hole had punctured the bottommost crate at approximately Jo's height. Upon seeing Jane, the dog had ventured back out, still making an anxious racket but now allowing her owner to make sure she hadn't been hurt. "Whatsa matter with you, girl?" Jane asked, trying to calm down her hyper dog. "What's goin' on?"<p>

At the sound of the gunshot a few moments earlier, several people had come pouring out of the surrounding shops, chattering apprehensively among themselves, trying to figure out what had just happened. The only thing that was clear was that someone had ridden off in a hurry, but was nowhere in sight. Finally the confusion came somewhat to an end when none other than Garrett Fairfield came stumbling out of a nearby office, his normally handsome face marred somewhat by a bruise forming around his eye. Jane ran across the street towards him in time to hear him telling people he'd just been robbed.

"Mr. Fairfield, what happened?" Jane asked.

"Not entirely sure," he said, rubbing his head. "I was just closing a deal with Mr. Warriner, and a man came in and held us up." He raised his eyebrows. "In daylight! What's _with_ this country?"

"Anyone know which way this fella went?" Jane asked the surrounding public. About half a dozen of them pointed to the east, and Jane narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Fairfield, this your horse?" she asked, jabbing her thumb at a particularly well-groomed beast. When he wearily nodded, she said, "With your permission, I'll borrow it and get your money back for ya."

"Nah, let the law handle it," Garrett said, wincing in pain.

An old man chimed in: "Calamity Jane _is _the law around these parts, young fella. You'd do well to let her go after that scoundrel—you're wastin' precious time now!"

Jane didn't wait for Garrett to respond. "If it makes ya feel any better," she said, clambering up on the horse, "I ain't just doin' this for you. That man tried to kill my dog, and for that he must pay." Without another word, she dug her heels into the horse and took off. _That idiot. He probably took a shot at Jo to make her shut up, and the gunshot is what got everyone's attention! What kind of a clown is this? _

Not one with a very put-together plan, she soon discovered. She picked up his trail with relative ease—perhaps by taking the back road out of town, he had hoped to go undetected, but that was another incredibly bad idea: this was practically open desert. Nowhere to hide. Jane narrowed her sights on him and urged her horse faster. She was in her element: the galloping of horse's hooves was music to her ears, and the wind whipping her face, her hair, and her clothes was her breath of life. As she got closer, she saw that this man had stolen one of Korsak's horses—and, luckily for Jane, one of the slower ones. Her hand brushed against her pistol, but she instantly decided that actually taking such action would be too drastic. So, she got just close enough to scare him.

"Hey!" she shouted, holding her gun out threateningly. "Stop now!"

Appearing astonished that the person who'd been chasing him was a woman, the man got over his surprise fairly quickly and picked up the whip that had been tied to the front of the horse's saddle. Jane had pulled ahead of him, trying to cut him off; he yanked his horse further away, but his timing was poor—he'd made the move just as he tried to whip the gun out of Jane's hand. What he wound up doing was not only missing her hand entirely but bungling the form: Jane shouted and pulled on the reins when she felt the length of the whip lash against her back. She swore at him, but despite the pain, was determined not to give up. She looked desperately on Garrett's saddle for something helpful, then found it: a rope looped around the back.

Driving her horse ahead again, Jane grabbed the rope and started forming a lasso. She was thankful for Adelaide's thin gloves, because they helped make the work easier, even on top of a running horse. The problematic thing was Jane's back, which she knew was bleeding and was not taking kindly to the harsh wind. Still, Jane had endured far worse. She grit her teeth against the pain, reminding herself not only that this man had nearly killed Jo, but also—

_That guy's got Fairfield's hard-earned money, money he's been saving for Maura. He loses it, and that'll put him more in the hole. He'll have to put her off more—put off her happiness more—Fairfield can stay put, but I'll be damned if I let that happen!_

In no time she had caught up again, and two things happened nearly simultaneously: she threw the lasso, and the man decided _gender be damned! _and turned around to fire a shot at Jane. Again his aim was ruined, this time because he was twisted around but also because he was distracted by the fact that a rope had just encircled his chest and arms. His bullet grazed Jane's waist, just barely missing her horse's neck. His own horse came to a slow stop, sensing that the man riding him had lost control, and Jane fully caught up, tightening the lasso.

"What _are _you?" the man gasped.

Jane turned her pained wince into the best smirk she could muster. "I'm Calamity Jane. When you think you've got _me _licked, it's time for _you _to get out of town!" She reached for the reins of his horse and turned it around. "Of course, I guess that's what you was tryin' to do, but this ain't really about me. Ya shouldn't have tried to rob Garrett Fairfield, mister."

The ride back to town was fairly slow (although Jane had considered dragging this fiend on the ground behind her), so it was fortuitous that just a quarter of the way back, they were met by Korsak, Grant, and Frost. Korsak was bringing up the rear with his coach, explaining once he was within earshot that they had hoped to catch up.

"And you thought it was necessary to send out a posse to catch a lone robber who held up one man?" Jane asked.

"It's hardly a posse, Jane," Grant said. "Besides, he attacked two men in that robbery."

"And _I_ came in case _you _needed any backup," Frost chimed in.

Nodding behind him, Korsak said, "We brought the coach to bring him in, but it seems you've done a good job of improvising. Maybe _you _oughtta come in here, Jane. You don't look so good."

The last thing Jane said before she passed out was "I'm fine."

When she woke up, it was twilight time and she was in her room in the old Rizzoli house. She had guessed this first because of the distinct smell of grits and corn whiskey that she associated with home, and she learned her assumption was correct when she groggily opened her eyes. After orienting herself, Jane realized she was lying on her stomach on her very worn cot, her neck twisted at an odd, uncomfortable angle. She groaned slightly and tried to sit up to fix this, but a firm hand on her shoulder forced her back down, smushing her cheek into a pillow. Were it anyone else trying to get her to lie down, Jane would have resisted (possibly with some violence), but the gentle voice which accompanied the strong hand left Jane feeling strangely compliant.

It was Maura: "You need to stay down."

"M…Maura? What're you doing here?" Jane asked wearily, her voice deeper and more gravelly than usual. She figured Maura was sitting somewhere behind her, because Jane couldn't see her.

Bringing her chair into view, Maura explained, "I am here because you are wounded and I am a doctor."

Jane grunted and tried to move again. "I'm not _that_ wounde—AH!" One bad move sent a streak of pain shooting down her back. "_Son of a…!_" She turned and muffled the rest of her swearing in her pillow, partly to save Maura's ears but also because it was strangely a more comfortable position.

"Yes, you sound fine to me," Maura said, earning her an annoyed groan from Jane. "Tell me where it hurts." When Jane remained steadfastly silent, Maura sighed in exasperation. "At least tell me what happened before the Sheriff found you. Frost said you were about to slide off your horse when you blacked out, but he was able to catch you before you hit the ground. What happened before that?"

Jane sighed heavily, as if this was the most obnoxious question Maura could have asked her. "Bullet graze at the waist and a…" She moaned roughly as painful twinge struck her back again. "Can you beat that coward? Snapped a whip across my back like I was a horse or a runaway slave or somethin'."

"Where exactly is the bullet wound?"

Propping herself up on her left arm, Jane used her right hand to gesture to the spot. Maura pursed her lips, then got down off the chair onto her knees, sidling up to the bed. She placed her bare hands carefully near Jane's belt, giving the fabric of her shirt a gentle tug. She glanced up at Jane's eyes, tacitly asking for permission to pull, and Jane gave her a stiff nod. Careful not to press down too hard, Maura tugged with a bit more force at the shirt, pulling it and a dusty white undershirt out from the pants they had been tucked into. She drew them out only far enough to see where the bullet had indeed just grazed Jane, but left a very definite mark. Maura narrowed her eyes and peered closer.

Jane's breath hitched when Maura's fingers pressed the skin near the wound. Maura quizzically looked up, noting Jane's response. "See?" Jane said. "Just a scratch."

"A scratch that could be infected and get worse if it isn't attended to properly," Maura countered seriously. "Please don't let your insufferable pride get in the way of your healing."

"I've had worse scrapes than this," Jane said gruffly.

Maura raised her eyebrows. "And? That's not an excuse, Jane. You probably don't get much treatment for your injuries when you're off gallivanting with Frost, but the point is _now _you c—"

"I do _so _get treated when I'm with Frost!" Jane cut in. "I ain't stupid. If somethin' seems real serious, or it gets to hurtin' a lot, I'll find a local doctor."

"As Jake Wyatt?"

"Sometimes. Although in those cases, I usually need to bring along some extra persuasion, if ya know what I mean."

"Ah. Such as a gun?" When Jane nodded, Maura calmly lifted Jane's own gun from where it had been lying on the floor. With an expression of utmost gravity, Maura held it up and pointed it at Jane. "Let me help you, or I'll _really _give you something to cry about."

After a long pause (during which Jane tried to gauge Maura's true sentiments), Jane gave a rumbling laugh and held up a hand in surrender. "Well now you're talkin' my language, Dr. Isles." With a more resigned sigh, she said, "How do you want me?"

Gently laying the pistol back down, Maura said, "Hm…could you sit up?"

"I thought you told me to stay lying down," Jane said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Only because I knew you were about to jump to your feet and try to run out of here."

"Ha. Smart." In a painstaking fashion, Jane shifted herself into a sitting position, shaking her head when Maura offered to help. Her breathing was ragged and sharp as she tried to find a pose that would incite the least pain in her back. "Uh…how're you gonna do this? I mean, is it all right if I sorta lean against the wall like this?" She desperately hoped Maura said yes, because pressing her back up by the wall was surprisingly comfortable; at least, more so than trying to keep a straight posture while sitting in the middle of the bed.

Maura frowned thoughtfully. "Um, sure. I'll need to wrap a bandage around your waist and stomach area eventually, but if you'll just lean forward for that, you should be fine."

"Good," Jane sighed. As Maura busily went about opening her equipment and getting out the tools she needed, Jane asked, "Why'd ya bring me here? Why not to Dr. Byron's office?"

"It's not unusual to make house calls," Maura said lightly. "And besides, your brothers said you'd rather be treated here. Were they wrong?"

"No, no… they weren't wrong." This was probably true, as Jane had to admit there was something soothing about being home. The thing was that after having spent so much of the afternoon in Garrett's part of town, where Maura would soon be living, Jane felt incredibly self-conscious about her own ramshackle old house. She cringed just taking in the sight of her own grimy cot and all the dust that had collected in the room—of course the boys wouldn't have bothered to clean up here, or for all she knew, anywhere else in the house. Maura hadn't said anything and nothing in her face or body language belied any disgust, but Jane still felt prompted to apologize for the state of the house. "Sorry about the… the, uh…"

Maura looked up curiously. "The what?"

Jane shrugged half-heartedly. "The house. I know it ain't very nice."

"And how would you define 'nice?'"

"What? Uh, well… y'know, clean. Big. Pretty."

"Hm, well," Maura hummed, cutting off a long strip of white fabric. "If you think a house has to be clean and big to be nice, then you're right, I suppose this isn't the nicest of houses. But if you think it has to be pretty, well, that depends on your definition of pretty. Personally, I think this is a lovely home."

"What?" Jane snorted. "No you don't."

"I do. The exterior structure is intriguing, that circular window in the kitchen is pure art, and your walkway follows an impressively straight, sleek line. Personally, I think a nice house should have a personality, and your family's does. I could tell just by looking at it that this was where you and your brothers lived, even before Frost pointed it out. Don't ask me how," she said, glancing up to see Jane opening her mouth. "I just knew. Something about it, it just …it seemed like you. Garrett's house?" She shrugged. "It looks like all the others on the block, in case you didn't notice. Even the yards, they're all the exact same dimensions and the grass is cut to the same precise height, so everywhere you look there just doesn't seem to be any spark. No humanity, no personality." She sighed lightly, setting the pre-cut bandage aside and picking up a towel she planned to soak in a bowl of water Jane had just noticed was there. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yes," Jane said, her voice little more than an exhale.

Maura pulled the towel back out and wrung it tightly. "Sometimes I think I won't enjoy living on that side of town as much as I do Melody's boarding house. I understand Garrett's block is more, well…"

"Classy?" Jane offered.

"Elite, perhaps," Maura said, repeating the process of dunking and wringing the towel. "And I can see why Garrett might have been hesitant to put me in that boarding house at all. It's right in the center of town, and you get all sorts, you know. But he trusts me to consort with the right people, and so…"

"Have you been?" Jane asked.

"Have I been what?"

"Consorting with the right people."

At this, Maura furrowed her brow and caught Jane's eye again. "What do you mean? I've been working with Dr. Byron, a very esteemed individual in this town."

"And spendin' your spare time at Angela's with my brothers. Frankie's okay I guess, but I'm not sure Mr. Fairfield would be too tickled about your palling around with Tommy."

Maura's crisp reply was, "If Mr. Fairfield isn't worried, than you shouldn't be, either. Now would you please move closer to the foot of the bed?"

"Why?"

"So I can reach the wound. Otherwise I'd have to straddle you, which I would be happy to do if I weren't wearing a dress."

"You know, Maura, impertinence like that isn't very becoming in a lady," Jane said, obligingly (slowly) moving herself further down the cot.

"Hark who's talking," Maura chuckled, moving her chair to the foot of the bed and putting her materials on top of the blanket.

"Well if Whistler was a good tailor, he coulda made those pants for you by now and then you _could _have joined me up here."

"I'm afraid I'll have to go back to finish my measuring before that can happen."

"Finish? We weren't finished?"

"Jane, you've been fitted for pants before. We didn't do the inseam. Adelaide forgot she wasn't making me a skirt until after you took off, so I'll have to go back tomorrow when her assistant is in."

"Oh. Okay. That's good…I wasn't faring too well, I'm sure."

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Jane raised her eyebrows. "What? Why would you say that?"

Maura shrugged. "You seemed strangely unwilling to help Adelaide earlier, and you've been very resistant to my attempts to heal you right now."

"I haven't—I spent an hour _dancing _with you, didn't I?"

"Fair point. Don't squirm, then." Maura leaned forward, pressing the cool, moist towel against the angry red mark on Jane's waist. She rested her free hand on Jane's stomach to steady herself as she gently washed the blood away. Most of it had already dried, and she found herself having to scrub harder. "Are you all right?" she asked, glancing up at Jane.

"Yes," Jane said through her teeth, though her expression—eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed—said otherwise. A short, staccato breath escaped her. "No. But do what you have to."

Maura silently finished as quickly as she could, then draped the towel over a white cloth she had laid out. Jane watched her warily as the doctor then pulled out a jar with some kind of eggshell-colored paste, which stung like hell when she applied it. A pained hiss escaped her patient, and she was sure Jane's clenched teeth were the only things preventing her from issuing a string of well-chosen swear words. "I'm sorry," Maura whispered. "But that's the best antidote to keep it clean and make it heal."

"It makes the pain go away?" Jane asked. "Is there anything you can do to make _its _pain go away?"

"I can only think of one thing that might help…"

"Wait, really? Okay, do it."

This was a procedure Maura had done very often, even if it wasn't technically recommended by other medical practitioners. But she had done it on herself and other patients (women and children) who felt pain when the ointment was applied. In those cases, though, the wound had usually been someplace as innocuous as an elbow or a shoulder or shin. _That shouldn't make any difference now… just because it's so close to her stomach …her belt… _As she tried to plan how to do this, Maura slowly slipped onto her knees again, leaning closer to Jane's injured waist. She had been methodically trying to think how the logistics of this should work when Jane—eyes still clamped shut—had asked what was keeping her, and in her hurry, Maura got too close and kissed the spot.

Jane's eyes shot open at the unexpected contact, and Maura pulled back slightly, quickly brushing her thumb across her lips to get off the drop of paste she had accidentally caught there. She had both felt and seen Jane's sharp intake of breath, and to assuage her, put an arm around the small of her back, pulling Jane closer, and placed her other hand on the closer of Jane's knees. In this position, she let out a slow, warm exhale directly onto the wounded part of Jane's skin. She inhaled and breathed out again, steady in and out, her breath washing warmth over the sting, then cooling it gently when she sucked the breath away.

Jane did not breathe for the next forty seconds as Maura repeated this process. It just felt so _good._ When Maura pulled away to sit again, it was all Jane could do to keep from grabbing a fistful of that golden hair and bringing her back down and over, to let her breath caress the spot that was now dully aching.

"Better?" Maura whispered. She wasn't sure, as Jane had jerked pretty badly when she had pulled away. But Jane nodded mutely, eyes shut again. Feeling encouraged by this, Maura reached for the gauzy fabric she had cut off to use as a bandage. She sat on the edge of the bed and held out the strip, asking Jane if she could lean forward, keeping her shirts pulled up enough for Maura to see the wound. Again, Jane wordlessly complied.

Maura moved quickly and efficiently, wrapping the bandage twice around Jane's thin waist and securing it in place. Her arms were cumbered awkwardly around Jane's limp frame, and Jane's free arm was lifted over Maura's shoulder to allow the doctor better access. Maura was too focused on her job to notice that they were nearly embracing. Jane realized this, though, and once Maura had finished but before she had the chance to pull back, Jane silently lifted her other arm and put them both on top of Maura's shoulders, essentially hugging her. Instantly Maura wanted to reciprocate the move but was wary of hurting Jane's back, so she carefully ghosted her fingers up Jane's sides before allowing them to more securely cup the back of her shoulders. After a few moments, Jane let her weight rest more fully against Maura, allowing herself to relax and willing Maura to as well.

"Thank you," she whispered into Maura's ear.

"Don't thank me yet," Maura said softly. "You're not through."

It was far too soon, but Jane awkwardly withdrew, resting against the wall again. "Oh, right. You wanna try and fix my back?"

"I do. I think we could achieve it if you'd lie on your stomach, but…sort of avoid resting weight on that part of your waist we just bandaged up, if you can."

"Like…hold on. Could you bring the pillow over here?" As Maura grabbed the pillow and brought it over, Jane noticed that her boots had been removed in addition to her gun and holster. Good, just as well. She slowly moved to lie on her stomach, shifting slightly to the side so that the wounded part of her waist wasn't touching the bed. "This all right?"

"If you're comfortable."

"As comfortable as I'll ever be."

"Well the trouble is, in that position it'll be hard for me to give your back the treatment it needs," Maura realized.

"Not a problem," Jane muttered, resting entirely on her stomach. She winced. "I mean it hurts, but it ain't God-awful. Do what you gotta do."

Maura fidgeted nervously. "Well, there's one more thing I have to do. To reach your back, I mean. Would you be willing to remove your shirt?"

Jane's chin was resting directly on the pillow, so she didn't need to turn her head to stare incredulously at Maura. "I'd rather not, if that's possible."

"The other option would be tearing it up the back, if that would make you more at ease."

A moment's consideration passed before Jane decided that was definitely the better alternative. "Yeah sure, I think you should do that. Why not? This old shirt's probably worn it's welcome anyway, right?"

"I wasn't going to say anything, but yes, you're right," Maura said, pulling out her scissors again. "If you'd like to accompany me to the tailor's again tomorrow, I'm sure Adelaide would be happy to suit you up with something fresh."

"I _should _go with ya," Jane muttered as Maura brought her chair around to the side of the cot again. "I didn't like the way that Whistler guy was lookin' at you."

"Mr. Whistler, Tommy, Giovanni, Dean… you don't seem to like the way _any_body looks at me," Maura said conversationally.

Jane tensed defensively. "I don't mind the way Mr. Fairfield looks at ya. He respects you. Those guys, they're all just… they look at you, but they don't see you."

"I don't understand…"

"Neither do I. Never mind."

"I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again," Maura sighed, picking up the towel and dampening it again. "You're a strange one, Calamity Jane."

Folding her arms under her chin, Jane said, "You bet your shiny suede boots I am. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"All right, lay still." Maura leaned over the bed, starting a small tear at the bottom of Jane's shirt, then following through with the scissors. As she pulled the two sides apart, she gasped slightly at the sight before her: a dark, diagonal line of blood had soaked through Jane's white undershirt, much more noticeably than the dark one Maura had just cut. "Good heavens, Jane …if you've been through worse than this, I don't want to ever hear about it."

_You won't_, Jane thought miserably to herself.

Maura braced herself for an even more ghastly vision as she cut through the undershirt, but when she had separated this material as well, she found herself gasping for an entirely different reason. Sure, the cut was bad, but it was not quite as terrible as Maura had been expecting. What caught her so off guard was the taut musculature of Jane's back. Jane had propped herself up somewhat, straining the anatomy Maura had so closely studied inside of books for the last few years. Her shoulder blades were sharp and angular, leading down to an intensely tanned-looking back, which no doubt owed its color to years lived under the sun. But aside from that, it just looked so strong, so well-developed. Combined with the bicep Maura had admired earlier, it really _was _no surprise that Jane had been able to carry her so easily …_I still can't believe someone actually looks like this in real life. I never thought I would see such well-defined musculature outside of a museum or a book on anatomy…_

Having noticed Maura's soft gasps and her hesitancy, Jane cut through the woman's inner thoughts: "Does it look bad?"

Maura caught herself in time to answer: "No, it's—actually, it looks better than I thought it would." She cleared her throat. "This'll hurt a little; sorry." She brushed the damp towel over Jane's bare back, and Jane bit into the pillow to keep pained sounds from coming out. Her shoulders rolled involuntarily, as if trying to find some way around the ache, but Maura's deft hands maneuvered the expanse of Jane's back, again working as fast and thoroughly as she could.

"You gonna put that paste on it?" Jane asked, when Maura had finally relinquished the towel.

"Yes."

"Okay. Well—now I reckon I know what to expect, you don't have to, um… breathe… on it this time."

Feeling strangely relieved, Maura said, "All right. I wasn't sure how I might've done that, anyway." With that, she gingerly applied the paste to the newly-forming scar, noting as she did so that there were many other older, smaller scars on her back.

Jane knew Maura would see them, but she didn't really mind. _She can think what she wants about those. Got them in fights or what have you, but maybe I'm the victor. Those scars on my hands… those are unmistakable signs of defeat. Weakness. _She tried to stop this depressing train of thought by switching gears, concentrating on something else… maybe, for example, how wonderful Maura's bare fingers felt on her skin.

It seemed that Maura intuited Jane didn't want her to remove her touch. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she said, "but your back seems very tense." This time, she didn't ask for permission to give her friend a massage, because she sensed they had reached a point where it was no longer needed. So she nimbly set her fingers to work, kneading the skin around Jane's newest cut. Jane moaned into the pillow, but Maura knew it was from satisfaction, not pain. It boosted her spirits to know she could bring Jane this much peace, this much pleasure, while also enjoying it herself in a way. She wasn't entirely sure why this act made her so happy, but it did—the feel of Jane's calloused skin, the nearly-musical movements of her muscles, it was all so inexplicably thrilling. Maura rubbed down harder, moving her fingers up to the base of Jane's neck and pressing there, earning another long, gratified moan.

"God," Jane breathed. "You're so good with your hands, Maura." The words had just unthinkingly escaped her, sparing no concern for her embarrassment. She had to let Maura know how she felt, how much she appreciated this.

"Glad to help where I can," Maura replied, letting her thumbs do the work of unknotting the tenseness in Jane's back and between her shoulders, and allowing her fingers to trace random patterns, occasionally lightly scraping her nails against Jane's hard skin.

Jane bit her pillow again, shoulders tightening and rolling once more with Maura's devoted ministrations. Her whole body shifted forward at one point, which is when she felt it, the damp substance between her legs. She was unsure whether it had come from her own body or whether it was something she had only just noticed on the inside of her long underwear; either way, she inhaled sharply at the sensation of rubbing against it. Instantly she was torn from wanting to feel it again and worrying about what it was… it had felt good, but what was it? (It had also hurt, because it meant lurching her back, which she did not want to do again). Something down there was throbbing slightly, unless that was her imagination, which it very well could have been—it felt as though most of her body was throbbing in pain. _Better not bring it up… it might be something strange._

To get her mind off it, Jane refocused on the random patterns Maura was continuing to trace onto her skin. "Are you… trying to spell something?"

"What?"

"Your fingers… it's like you're tryin' to write something in cursive."

"You know cursive?"

"Well…no. That's why I thought maybe it's what you were doing. I couldn't recognize it."

"I was just making up some designs." She paused thoughtfully, her fingers stilling. "Would you like me to trace something in cursive?"

"Sure."

"What do you want, your name?"

Jane didn't even stop to consider it before responding, "No. Yours."

This took Maura slightly off guard, and even though Jane couldn't see her face, she smirked to cover it. "You want me to brand you?"

With a tired sigh, Jane closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. "Yes," she whispered.

Again, Maura was surprised by this response, this time by Jane's tone. "All right," she murmured. Starting at Jane's left shoulder blade, she used her index finger to trace a tall, capital _M_. She distinctly pronounced each letter as she drew it, and ended by dragging her finger beneath and across Jane's shoulder blades, as if underlining the name she had invisibly written there. "There. Maura Isles." A long silence passed, and due to the fact that Jane had allowed herself to sink down into the pillow, plus the ongoing silence and her relaxed breathing, Maura wondered if the woman had fallen asleep. "Jane?" she whispered.

"Hm?"

"Um…the bandage…"

"Oh…right. Oops."

"Yes."

Though it pained her greatly to have to do it, Jane propped herself up on her elbows again but not so much that her shirts would expose too much of her. "Should, uh…"

"Here, let's try this." Maura brought out the swathe she had cut earlier, and placed it across the long cut on Jane's back. "Can you lift yourself up enough for me to pull it under?" she asked gently, and Jane supported her weight on her forearms, raising her body the necessary few inches up off the bed for Maura to reach under and pull the bandage through. She very nearly collapsed back down on the blanket at the feeling of Maura's fingers ghosting across her stomach, but she managed to keep it together in time for Maura to effectively finish securing the bandage. When given permission, she settled herself back down mostly onto her stomach but also her side, giving the wound on her waist a break from full contact. "There, now was that so bad?" Maura asked.

Jane grinned sheepishly. "Coulda been worse, I guess."

Maura leaned back in her chair, wiping her brow. She didn't usually stress this much over such simple procedures. "I dare say it could have been. Shall I go get your brothers? Or Angela, or Jo?"

"What for?" Jane asked, looking confused.

"I'm sure they'd like to see you."

"I don't really feel up to it," Jane mumbled. "Frankie and Tommy'll want me to recount what happened, and Angela will be too energetic for me to handle right now. And I definitely don't think I could handle Jo," she chuckled.

"Oh. Well maybe I should leave, then," Maura suggested, making to collect her things.

"No, don't," Jane said quickly. "Please."

"You're clearly too tired to talk, and I don't want to burden you," Maura said.

"_You _talk then. Please, don't leave."

Jane looked so earnest and her voice was so sincere that Maura sat back down again. "Well …I could read to you, if you like."

With a scoff, Jane said, "Out of what, one of your medicine books?"

"No," Maura said, making a face at her. She walked over to the desk and picked up a book that was near her parasol. "Frankie gave this to me a few days ago for some light reading. I happened to mention I was looking for new novels, and this is certainly something I never would have picked on my own. I haven't started it yet, but I brought it along with me today just… in case, I suppose."

"What is it?" Jane asked, her curiosity piqued.

Maura sat down again and showed her the illustration on the cover. "It was published just last year. It's called _Treasure Island_. I think you'll like it, judging by Frankie's description. It's all about pirates and buried treasure and all that exciting adventure."

Jane smiled hesitantly. "You sure it wouldn't bore ya to read it?"

"Certainly not," Maura laughed, flipping the book open to the first page. "I should hardly think something like this would be dull. Shall I begin?" When Jane nodded, Maura cleared her throat and started reading in the best dramatic voice she could: "'_Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island…'_"

At first, Jane interrupted several times to ask for the definitions of some of the words, but as Maura went on, the questions came less and less. Initially Maura figured this was because Jane was getting the hang of it, but she eventually realized it was because Jane was becoming too tired to be inquisitive. When she had finished the first chapter, Maura closed the book and asked if Jane wanted her to keep going.

"Not right now," Jane muttered, fighting to keep her eyes open. "But I liked it, though. Did you like it?"

"Yes, very much."

"Could ya… would ya maybe read more of it to me later?"

"I'd be happy to."

Jane smiled weakly. "Great. I'd ask for more now, but… I'm kind of tired…"

"That's all right, I understand."

"One more thing, though, Maura."

"Yes?"

"Would you…" She was too tired to be embarrassed about her request, her brain having really shut off some time ago. "Would you sing to me? That Scottish song you were singing in the barn earlier that was so pretty."

Maura blushed. "Oh, I don't… I don't really sing, Jane."

"Sounded good to me."

"Yes, but I didn't know anyone was listening. I only sing for myself."

"You're good at it, though."

"Well—thank you, but still."

"That's selfish, you know. Keeping your talent to yourself. Jesus said not to do that."

"What?"

"It's true, he did. It's one of the par… it's one of the pair of…"

"The parables?"

"Yeah. Angela really drilled that one into us, too. That's how come none of us are modest …we took that lesson to heart. Please, Maura. I know you've already shared so much with me… your dancing, your writing, your healing… but please. Please sing for me?"

With a short sigh, Maura surveyed Jane's expression and quickly ascertained that she was doomed. Jane could be as bossy as she wanted to be with a cigar in her mouth and Maura would bend to her dominance because of it. But this face right here was another one she found herself unable to refuse: it was gentle, pleading, soft. None of the things she would expect Jake Wyatt to be, but was slowly learning to accept as part of "Calamity" Jane's true nature.

So, in the softest voice she could, Maura tremblingly began the first verse of "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton." Her voice got incrementally stronger as Jane closed her eyes and smiled, returning to an expression of utter peace. It didn't take long for her to drift into sleep, and Maura continued to sing quietly as she packed her instruments back together and ultimately made to leave:

"…_I charge you disturb not/my slumbering fair…_"

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><p><strong>AN**: And there's chapter 20. Thanks for sticking with me this long, folks! You're all the best. As always, reviews are loved like children- tell me what I'm doing right and of course what could be improved. Also, I was (pleasantly) surprised by the reactions to Adelaide, and I'm sort of considering making her a real wingman, possibly. Could be fun. And if I could shamelessly plug and peddle my own crap- thanks to those of you who checked out and reviewed "Send That Rainbow To Me"! If you'd like to read one of my stories where Jane and Maura are actually together right from the get go, I'd invite you to check it out. It's just PWP fluff, because I decided I need more of that in my life.


	21. Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

**A/N**: There is a moment in this chapter inspired by something from **ri-fan**'s story "Summer Camp," which is an AU that I totally recommend reading if you haven't already. Delightful stuff.

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><p>Maura had promised to stop by Garrett's once she had finished with Jane, and she found him sitting on his front porch reading a paper. The driver of the coach she had commissioned from town helped her down, and she asked if he wouldn't mind waiting for her; it had been a long day, and she did not anticipate spending too much time with Garrett. As she walked up to his porch, he lowered the newspaper, revealing something of a frown.<p>

He had a cut imbedded in a bruise above his eyebrow and, having never been the recipient of intentional violence before, was acting as though a limb had been dismembered. He had not been particularly pleased when Maura, in the middle of treating his wound, had jumped up immediately when Korsak had driven by and asked for her help with Jane. Without even sparing a backwards glance for Garrett, Maura had practically jumped into Korsak's carriage and ridden away, with her fiancé only half-taken care of.

"So how's Jane?" he asked stiffly, folding his paper and clearly upset about something.

With a sigh, Maura sat in the chair next to Garrett. "Oh, she was terrible. Gunshot wound and whipped! I mean it was so bad, she fainted. When we got her in bed, it took another twenty minutes for her to wake up!"

Garrett's frown became more pronounced. "And did you treat her while she was unconscious?"

"No," Maura said, looking confused. "That wouldn't have been ethical or entirely feasible in her condition."

"So you just… sat there, waiting for her consciousness to come back? Instead of being with me, finishing taking care of _me?_"

Maura furrowed her brow, finally catching on to Garrett's perturbed tone. "Garrett, I apologize for leaving you so quickly, but your wound was minor, straightforward and easy to take care of. Jane was in an awful state, and I wanted to be there when she woke up, so I could remedy her pain as soon as possible."

"Well what about _my _pain?" Garrett asked, sounding rather petulant. "Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Of course it means something," Maura sighed. "But in instances like this, you have to remember I am not _only_ your fiancé; I am also a doctor. Jane needed me more than you did. You were more scared than hurt, weren't you? Startled, not scared," she quickly corrected herself, noting his resentful expression at her word choice. "You're not in pain _now_, are you? Jane is going to hurt for a while every time she walks, every time she breathes in too deeply, every time she sits down, she is going to be in pain. I did what I could to lessen it and the length of time it will take to heal." She had spoken steadfastly and authoritatively, not necessarily as Jane's defensive friend but as a medical professional. Garrett looked slightly cowed, prompting Maura to add, "Now. Don't you feel a little silly?"

He was too proud to concede so quickly. "You start smoking, Maura?"

"Excuse me?"

Garrett jabbed his thumb behind him, indicating the house. "I went to get a cigar and one was missing. I have smoked exactly three from the box you gave me, and four are absent. Do you know where it is? Or did someone come in my home, see all the furniture and valuables, and steal _one _cigar?"

"Garrett, I gave one of those cigars to Jane."

For a moment, Garrett looked surprised, but then he settled back into his chair with a skeptical snort. "Smokes cigars. Wears men's clothes, drinks whiskey—not much of a lady, is she? That's not to mention jumping on a horse and nearly getting herself killed by chasing down a common criminal that had nothing to do with her!"

"Well what about it?" Maura asked a bit louder than was probably called for. "So she tried to get your money back for you—and succeeded! Or did you forget that already? It was certainly more action than _you _took! You got a bruise and couldn't bring yourself to go after him! What kind of man _are_ you?"

"You've been listening to too many stories about this land, Maura," Garrett said darkly. "You would never expect me to act so rashly in Boston, would you? No. You would have me contact the proper authorities and let _them _take care of it. I am not ungrateful for the return of my money, but Jane had no business doing what she did. I asked her not to get involved. What happened to her is her own fault."

"You're saying she deserved it?" Maura asked testily.

"In a way, yes! There are risks involved when you become engaged in dangerous activity like that, risks women shouldn't take! Nobody asked her to do it. I've heard plenty about this so-called Calamity Jane—wants everyone to be impressed, to be intimidated. Did you ask her why she did it? Did she explain her motivation?" When Maura just gaped wordlessly at him, Garrett sneered. "Of course she didn't! She did it to boost her own worth, to play the hero!"

Maura got abruptly to her feet. "If you would be so kind, Mr. Fairfield, I would appreciate it if in the future you would refrain from postulating so rudely about people you know nothing about!"

Garrett remained seated, but raised his voice as Maura walked back to her coach. "And I suppose _you _know her? After having spent less than five days in her company?"

Maura turned back to look at him as the driver leapt down to assist her into the coach. She wanted to yell back that Garrett shouldn't presume to know everything about _her_, either, but his comment (and its volume) had already pushed the boundary of impropriety and Maura had no intention of disgracing them in public any further. As she was driven back to town, she reflected that she probably shouldn't have left in such a huff: it was never a good idea to part on bad terms, especially with one's fiancé. She swore to herself to make up with him tomorrow. After all, while his attitude might have been objectionable, not all of his points were bad ones. And so she went to bed thinking hazily about how she might apologize in the morning.

But when she woke up, all Maura could think about was Jane: how she'd be feeling, how her family was holding up, but mostly what Garrett had mentioned: why had Jane felt the need to chase down this crook herself? As she got dressed, Maura reasoned that she ought to have asked Jane about it yesterday, but she had been so preoccupied with healing her and making sure the woman was comfortable that it had slipped her mind. _Well_, she thought, buttoning up her periwinkle-blue jacket, _not today. Today I get answers!_

After a rushed breakfast, Maura was out the door and en route to Jane's house. The Rizzoli part of town had fallen largely into disrepair, and as much as Maura sincerely admired Jane's home, she had to admit that the street itself left much to be desired. Yesterday she had been here in a closed coach, and had been paying more attention to Jane than to her surroundings. _Garrett probably wouldn't want me in this part of town, especially not alone_. Many of the houses were falling apart, and the only other person outside was an old man sitting on his porch, talking to himself. He made some kind of animal noise as Maura walked by. She quickened her pace and averted her eyes to the road, which appeared to be made up of dried mud and broken beer bottles. As this vantage point forced her to look at her increasingly dirtied boots, Maura refocused her gaze on Jane's house, which was thankfully within sight.

Tommy saw her through the window, and rushed out to the porch while she was still several yards away. "Maura! What're you doin' on this side of town?"

"I'm here to check on your sister," she replied, nearly tripping on single abandoned boot.

Hurrying down the walk to get to the road and meet her, Tommy said, "Ya shouldn't have come here alone. Why didn't you have Mr. Fairfield bring ya, or ask one of us to come pick you up?"

"Didn't have the time, and it didn't occur to me," Maura said honestly, following Tommy back up the walk and to the house. "I have much to get done today, and I thought seeing Jane first would work best for both of us. Is she awake?"

"Uh…yes," Tommy said slowly, opening the front door for her.

She raised an eyebrow at him before walking inside. "You sound hesitant."

"Well… that's because she's uh, Jane's not quite herself at the moment."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin'!...just, well, she was good after you left yesterday, but she woke up in the middle of the night, moanin' somethin' awful. I don't figure she even knew she was doin' it, like she was makin' noises in her sleep, y'know? But I thought she was in pain maybe, so I went into her room and saw that yeah, she was sleepin'. She said your name a couple times before I could wake her up, and boy when I did, she looked about ready to slap me. She hurt real bad. I asked if she wanted a drink to kill the pain and she said sure, and she—well, she drank quite a bit."

With a heavy sigh, Maura headed down the hallway to Jane's room. "Tommy, while I appreciate the intentions behind your efforts, please don't do that again. Alcohol will make her very unresponsive, and while it dulls the pain for a while, it makes it that much more difficult to track." She placed her hand on the doorknob and turned to look at him, surprised to find him practically on her tail. "Would you please do me a favor and stay out here? I don't want to be disturbed."

"Right, right," he said, backing away. "I'll make sure nobody bothers ya, Dr. Isles. I mean, Frankie ain't here, and neither's Frost, but…if either of 'em come back, I'll tell 'em to keep out till you're gone."

"Thank you." With that, she twisted the knob and stepped quickly inside. Jane was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking very anxious about something, and almost guilty. "Good morning, Jane."

"Doctor Isles! How are you?" Jane asked loudly.

"That's what _I'd _like to ask _you_," Maura said, walking over and sitting next to Jane on the bed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Jane waved her hand dismissively. "Great. Fantastic."

Maura frowned, smelling the alcohol on Jane's breath. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Whaaaat? No! No. I had a little bit, Maura, just a little bit," Jane said, holding her thumb and index finger a few centimeters apart. "But only because I was hurtin' so much and the whiskey made it go away! It made the hurt go away, Maura. Ain't that what's supposed to happen? Ain't that your job to make it stop hurting?"

"Jane, there is no such thing as a miracle, over-night cure," Maura said. "Whiskey may seem like it helps now, but you're not doing yourself any favors—it's only going to hurt more later."

"You're crazy," Jane muttered. "What'd you come over for, anyhow?"

"To follow up on you," Maura answered. "Although I don't know if I'm going to be able to be of much help when you're in such a state."

"You shoulda told me not to drink," Jane said. "Why wouldn't I? Did you say you drink, Dr. Isles?"

"I don't."

"Ya don't. Hm. Well you should try it sometime."

"Yes, I'm sure some day I will. Now J—"

"Will ya? Will you really?"

"_Jane…_" This is when it would have been helpful to know a last name, because Maura found it difficult to fully express all of her frustration and exasperation with one syllable. "Jane, please focus. Can you just focus for a second?"

"On what?"

"On me."

"Sure, Dr. Isles," Jane said with a shrug, leaning closer. "That's all I ever do is focus on you. When I'm waitin' to go to sleep, and when I'm trying to close a deal, or sometimes when I'm just eatin' or somethin', I get to thinking, 'I wonder what Maura's up to?'" She hiccupped and shrugged again. "Hell, that's why I got in the scrape I did was 'cause I was focused on you. This thing on my back, I mean. And my waist, come to think of it."

"What do you mean?" Maura asked, unsure whether the whiskey was just making Jane ramble, or if it had merely loosened her tongue.

"I mean you think I give a rat's ass about Garrett Fairfield?" Jane asked. "No. I don't. I only care about him 'cause he's important to you, and I care about you, Dr. Isles. If someone got away with his money, then there'd go the money he should have been spending on you. I don't like that guy, Dr. Maura. Dr. Isles. I don't like him. If _I _were Garrett Fairfield, I'd have married you years ago. You'd be a mother five times over by now. How come he ain't lavished you with his riches, with his love? All he's got, he oughtta do nothin' more than get down on his knees and thank God every day you ain't left him."

"Jane, you—you aren't yourself, you don't know what you're saying…"

"Wrong," Jane said, her voice little more than a husky whisper. She moved closer, numb to the pain as she shifted one arm over Maura's stomach, clutching her waist. "I know what I'm saying, exactly what. Out here we don't have time for fancy, long engagements. We get things done. Do you reckon there's somethin' the matter with Garrett? How come he ain't made you his, yet? Don't he know he could lose ya at any second?"

Maura hadn't spoken up until now because being in such close proximity with Jane was making it hard for her to do anything more strenuous than breathe. It had taken her this long to become strong enough to stand up, pushing Jane's arm off of her stomach. "Would you kindly explain what you meant by that remark?"

Appearing unfazed by Maura's sudden move, Jane said, "Certainly, ma'am. Just 'cause you've got a fiancé don't mean other men can't look at ya, and it don't mean you can't look at other men. Take me, for example. Or Jake Wyatt, rather."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jane shook her head. "Pardon not granted. I remember the first day I met you, Dr. Maura Isles. I was in disguise. I am the master of… being Jake Wyatt. That's why I'm him. I can shoot good and I can scare people good and I can tell when women want me." She groaned and got to her feet, not having liked the position of being beneath Maura and having to look up at her. Maura took a small step back, but Jane just smirked, slipping her hands into corduroy pockets, thumbs pointing at her crotch as she walked closer. "There's somethin' about their eyes. Somethin' in the way they look at me, the way they breathe. The way their voices sound when they talk. Whether they like me 'cause I'm dangerous, or they're afraid of me 'cause I seem mean, they are intrigued." She had continued to move, walking Maura back into the wall, and when Maura hit it, Jane placed a hand just over the doctor's shoulder. "You don't fool me, Maura. You were attracted to Jake Wyatt, weren't you?"

Maura's heart was pounding relentlessly in her ears, overwhelmed by the scent of whiskey but mostly by Jane's assertions. Particularly troublesome was the fact that Jane hadn't let her last sentence stand as an assumption, a statement—she had turned it into a question, one she expected the always-honest Maura to answer.

There was no room for interpretation or squirming around it when Jane cocked her head and said, "I asked you a question, Dr. Isles. Do you find Jake Wyatt an attractive man?"

"Jake Wyatt isn't real," Maura countered, still fighting to avoid a direct response.

Jane just laughed. "Oh he's real, all right. Don't you worry your pretty head about that, Dr. Isles. I can vouch for him. Jake's the real thing, but he's also a real gentleman. He don't act on it when women try gettin' his attention. He lets 'em alone." Through her tipsy haze she recognized Maura's raised eyebrows, and moved back, allowing Maura to step slightly away from the wall, but remain standing between it and Jane. "Say, I've been meanin' to ask ya—what kind of fella _is_ Garrett Fairfield, anyhow?"

Looking a little surprised, Maura asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean…well obviously just by looking at him, you can tell he's smitten with ya, and I don't blame him for that. But is he …is he decent? Or… do you think there's a chance he might, uh…" She waved her hand, struggling to come up with the right words. "Act indecently towards you?"

Maura gasped softly, not caring whether Jane was intoxicated or not. This was not at all an appropriate thing to say, and Garrett was right, what was a lady doing so drunk, anyway? "Jane, do you realize what you are implying? Garrett Fairfield is a gentleman!"

Merely shrugging at Maura's righteous indignation, Jane said, "He's also a man, ain't he? A fairly tall, strong man engaged to be married to a beautiful, smaller woman."

"What're you saying?" Maura whispered.

"You're smart, Dr. Isles. I think you know _exactly_ what I'm saying."

After a short but loaded pause, Maura said, "You _are _a rogue. To imagine that every man, simply due to his sex, has such things on his mind."

"I'm just sayin' this for your benefit," Jane said. "Would you be ready if it ever happened?"

"If what…?"

"This," Jane said gruffly, stepping forward and grabbing Maura's wrists with two strong, gloved hands. At the same time, she pushed Maura up against the wall, keeping their hands down between them. Jane leaned in close, her face mere inches from Maura's—and if Maura hadn't been holding her breath, Jane would've felt it breaking against her own lips. "What would you do?" Jane asked in a harsh whisper. She felt Maura struggle; Jane tightened her grip and repeated the question.

Maura was clearly terrified, her eyes wide and frightened, but Jane was unmoved in her determination. When she was able to catch her breath (or enough of it, anyway), she whispered, "Please, Jane—you're…you're scaring me…"

Jane's eyes were dark and cold, heartless. Unbeknownst to Maura, this was straight out of the gate of Jake Wyatt: the need to feel power over someone, always in command, the calculated lack of emotion. Jane pressed herself even closer, closing any gap between her and the smaller woman. Maura gasped at the forceful contact, which had inadvertently caused her hand to brush against Jane's crotch, instigating a fire in both places. This elicited another sharp gasp from Maura, and Jane screwed her eyes shut tightly, as if to also shut out the sudden stimulation she had unexpectedly felt coursing through her at this close contact. After gulping down a heavy breath, she forced her eyes back open again.

"You're scared?" she growled into Maura's ear, her hot breath burning the woman's neck. "Good. You should be."

"Please, Jane," Maura whimpered, redoubling her efforts to wrestle out of Jane's strong grip. "Please—"

Her voice was unrecognizable to herself when she hissed, "Please what, Maura?"

Maura didn't or couldn't verbally respond, but she tried again to pull herself free, and this time her hand knocked directly into the recovering wound on Jane's waist. The forceful contact finally cut through Jane's tipsy state, causing a rumble of pain to ripple through the numbness. She was struck suddenly with the enormity and villainy of what she was doing—

"_Please, sir—please!"_

"_Please what, Janie?"_

Jane unconsciously slackened her grip, and sensing this, Maura was finally able to push her off. It was a relatively gentle shove, but Jane stumbled back as if Maura had kicked her in the stomach. The long scar on her back was now also starting to ache, but Jane ignored the feeling as she tried to take a moment to collect herself before looking at Maura. Jane was instantly struck with self-loathing and guilt, knowing that it was her fault that Maura looked so hurt, so scared, so flushed; her chest heaved deeply as Maura fought to get enough air to make her heart beat regularly again.

"Maura," Jane breathed, her tone entirely different, apologetic and filled with sorrow. She blinked and tried to orient herself. "Maura—Maur, hell, I-I'm sorry—"

She was tripping awkwardly over her words and thoughts, hating how empty they sounded. Apparently Maura wasn't convinced either: she took a step towards Jane and slapped her hard across the face before storming out of the room.

As soon as Maura was gone, Jane hissed in agony and gingerly touched her cheek, surprised that Maura hadn't knocked out a tooth. She tried to move her jaw, and pain shot through the length of her face. Great, another injury. Jane walked backwards until she felt the bed at the back of her knees, and she sank onto it, resting on her stomach. Once she felt she had collected enough strength, she pulled herself to the edge of the bed to pick up what she had stowed there before Maura's sudden arrival.

Just then, Tommy opened the door, looking vastly confused. "Jane? Why'd Maura take off like that?"

"Like what?" Jane slurred.

"Boy, was she in a foul mood!"

"Never mind," Jane grumbled, picking up the near-empty whiskey bottle and holding it up for him to take. "Don't ever leave that in my room again. Don't ever give me whiskey. Don't give me nothin', you understand? Just let me be. Let me be for now. Alone. Get out."

Looking slightly hurt by her remarks, Tommy just said "Okay," and took the bottle out of her hands. He left the room, shutting the door after him.

Jane wished he hadn't come in, last night _or _just now. She had in fact woken up a few hours after Maura's departure yesterday, and remained awake for a while, feeling only a slight ache whenever she moved. But when she had fallen asleep and woken up again much later, suddenly the pain was worse, and Tommy's only solution had been to give her some whiskey and leave the bottle. Talking to him now had made the side of her face hurt where Maura had slapped it.

_You deserved that_, _you damn fool, _Jane thought miserably, wearily to herself, leaving the warmth of her hand on her reddening cheek. _Why'd you go and do a stupid thing like that?_

Jane reached under her bed for the sheaf of papers she had hastily thrown down there earlier. Somewhere rolling around on the floor was the nib pen Frankie had leant her, but she didn't feel up to searching for it just now. Her vision was blurry as she tried to focus on the words she had practiced writing over and over yesterday, the first time she had woken up. _Helo, Maura Isles. Maura… Maura Isles… _she had loved the way the letters in Maura's name came together.

She didn't realize she was crying until one tear slid into her mouth and another left the first of many wet dots on Maura's name.

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><p><strong>AN**: A few quick items of business- 1) Happy Easter, everyone! Seriously. Great holiday. 2) I feel kind of funny about this, but after stalking tumblr pages for months, I decided to cave and get my own. It's easier to manage than a blog. If you feel so inclined, check out jobethdalloway dot tumblr dot com! 3) **Holy CRAP**. Are there any other _Gilmore Girls_ fans out there? Aside from being the one reason I can't bring myself to completely hate Dean (Billy Burke was the only guy I liked for Lorelai aside from Luke, and sometimes Jason), **Tommy Rizzoli** had a role in an episode I just watched! I totally freaked out. It's the one where Rory and Paris go on spring break, and Paris and Madeline and Louise keep telling Rory to flirt with him. With Tommy Rizzoli. He popped up like six times and had dialogue and everything. I've never particularly cared for that episode, but I may start watching it a ton more now...(in spite of its les-ploitation, a.k.a. Madeline and Louise saying they make out with each other to get stuff they want from guys. Ah, well.)

Oh, and thank you all for the continued support and reviews!


	22. Everybody's Coming to Get Me

**A/N**: I'd like to thank those of y'all who are sticking with me and have trusted me to get this story done right- sometimes, I do doubt myself. I'm glad you (mostly) appreciated the last chapter, and I just wanted to share a PM I got which described exactly what I was trying to do: "_given what Jane's gone through and who she has become to adapt to it, it would have been unreasonable for her to be entirely the heart of gold that she's presented herself as thus far. It's heroic that she keeps that inside most of the time, but alcohol, pain, sexual frustration and vulnerability can make a powerful cocktail, and what you wrote is the result_." Thanks, **icepikk**!

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><p>Somehow Maura managed to keep it together until returning to her room in the boarding house. Once she had shut the door after herself, she leaned against it, breathing deeply. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared she might have an attack; she placed a hand firmly against her chest as she gasped for breath and her eyes burned with tears yet unshed. Then, with one shuddering gasp, they suddenly started pouring without abandon. Maura took the weak steps necessary to reach her bed, then collapsed onto it, her crying ratcheting up into ugly sobs. She hadn't cried like this in months, not since her father had died. Her father—what had he always said to do when she got like this, when she cried so hard it was a struggle to get oxygen to her lungs? Take a deep breath, honey, go on.<p>

Inhale. _First Garrett, now Jane_. Exhale. _I can't believe she made those accusations! _Inha—_try again—_inhale. _Why would she try to hurt me like that? _Exh—_oh give it up, this isn't going to work!_

She tremblingly pulled off her gloves and saw for the first time the burning red marks that had formed around her wrists where Jane had grabbed her. This did little to calm Maura down, and in fact had the opposite effect. When she closed her eyes, all she could envision was the dark, wicked look in Jane's eyes when she had been committing that horrid act, pressing Maura against the wall. She had looked at her like Maura had been a piece of prey, a trapped animal, and Maura remembered suddenly what Jane had once said about her philosophy—

"_Do it to him before he does it to you."_

"_That's living like an animal."_

_And Jane had merely shrugged_.

That was no excuse to have given Maura such a violent object lesson. Maura hated her anxiety and confusion as much as she hated crying like this. Her mind was a whirlwind, unable to settle on any single thought as Garrett's and Jane's words swirled around her head. Jane had been inebriated, true, but in a way that only made Garrett's point stronger.

It had been naïve for Maura to think she knew Jane so well. She didn't really know the woman at all. Garrett was right; they'd only been around each other _three days_—well, today had been the fourth—and that was hardly enough time to get to know a person. Jane had been so kind to her, so sweet, so genteel. She had been willing to swallow her pride and let Maura teach her to dance, to write, to read. She had protected her from a rattlesnake, a lewd blacksmith, coyotes. She had defended Maura's honor. She had bought a jacket to shield Maura's shoes from mud, and carried her a great distance rather than wake her up. She had shown her the evening sky because she (rightly) thought Maura would find it beautiful. She had bought her a pet that would, with proper care, outlive her. So much in such little time.

But there was _so _much more that Jane did and Jane was which Maura knew nothing about. She shivered through her tears as it dawned on her that this morning she may have seen Calamity Jane for what she really was. You couldn't spend most of your life in disguise as an outlaw without having it affect you. She had to acknowledge that Jane was far more troubled than Maura had allowed herself to believe—possibly, she was even dangerous, as well. If a bit of whiskey could result in the drastic action Jane had ferociously taken this morning, it was indeed frightening to think of what she might be capable of with more.

Maura's wrists still stung with pain, but they didn't hurt nearly as much as Maura's heart. _Jane, how could you do this to me? _

It took her several minutes to calm down. Once she had exhausted her tears, her breathing slowly caught up—it was still ragged, but no longer sounded so desperate. With great effort, Maura pushed herself off the bed and ambled over to the mirror in her bathroom. As she had assumed, her eyes were a blotchy red, as were her cheeks, and much of her makeup had been smudged. Just after she had finished washing her face and reapplying the makeup, a knock sounded at her door.

For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it might have been Jane, come to apologize. But it was Melody's voice: "Miss Isles?"

"Just a moment, Melody," Maura sniffed lightly, giving her eyes a quick dab with her handkerchief. She knew it would still be obvious that she had been crying, but there was little she could do to change that and she couldn't leave Melody waiting. When she opened the door, Melody gasped softly.

"Why Miss Isles, you've been crying! Are you all right?"

With another loud sniff, Maura said, "I will be, thank you. How can I help you?"

Melody gave her head a little shake. "Oh, right. Mr. Fairfield is downstairs and says he'd like to talk to you, that it's urgent. What should you like me to tell him?"

"Oh my—uh—tell him I'll be down shortly." She smiled weakly. "I just need to freshen up a bit."

With a kind smile, Melody briefly grasped Maura's hand. "Of course."

A little under five minutes passed before Maura felt ready to go downstairs. The whites of her eyes were still lightly tinged red, but she figured Garrett wouldn't be observant enough to notice. She had forgotten he was the first person who had said to her, "Hey Maura, your eyes aren't green. They're not brown, either. I don't know what color they are, but they sure are pretty!" He was the person (after her father) who figured something was wrong after her cat had died and she hadn't told anyone yet. He was the one who dunked Mary Wilson's braids in ink when she made fun of the scientific way in which Maura talked, and he shoved Johnny Cooper into a river when he said Mr. Isles was an old kook. So of course Garrett Fairfield would notice she had been crying. As soon as Maura had walked onto the porch where he was sitting alone, he stood up, hat in hand, looking remorseful as a man going to confession.

_Jane doesn't know him at all. He would never lay a hand on me. _

"Oh, Maura," he said softly, regretfully. "I've made you cry. I am the lowest piece of dirt on the earth. I am a scoundrel unworthy of even looking you in the eye." (But he did.) "Maura, I would completely understand if you couldn't bring yourself to forgive me right away—I acted abominably, and I wanted to come to you as soon as I could to apologize profusely."

Maura stepped closer and reached for his hands. Let him assume he was the only reason for her tears. "Garrett, I felt sorry as soon as I left you. I hated departing so quickly and on such a sour note. I acted rashly. Silly. And resultantly I feel it necessary to ask _your _forgiveness."

Garrett laughed weakly, squeezing her hands between his own. "You don't have to ask for it, Maura, you don't ever have to ask for it. You mean more to me than anything else in the entire world."

A lump rose in Maura's throat that prevented her from immediately returning the sentiment. She knew she couldn't say it honestly, but she didn't feel bad about this because she believed Garrett had been exaggerating anyway. "My dear," she said, "I wish only to make you happy while melding our lives together as harmoniously as possible. You and I, Garrett, I think we can overcome any problem that comes our way, if we come at it together."

"I whole-heartedly agree," he said, grinning in disbelief at Maura's graciousness. "Let's never part ways on a bad note again." Maura nodded and he kissed her hands. "Now there's one more thing I need to apologize for. I'm afraid my derogatory remarks toward Jane were uncouth and uncalled for. I should have taken into consideration the fact that she was not raised in an environment like yours, or with your opportunities, and thus perhaps shouldn't be held to your same standard. I do think she might try a bit harder to be ladylike as she should be, but still, I may have judged her too harshly. I know some sort of odd friendship has sprung up between the two of you, and it was unkind of me to be so rude about—Maura? Are you crying?"

Maura let a small, shuddering gasp escape her, not having realized that tears had stung her eyes again. "Oh," she said, wiping away some errant tears. "I'm just—Garrett, I'm so moved that you would apologize like this, getting rid of your pride and being late for work—"

"Well, you're more important," he said simply.

What Maura neglected to mention was that she was mostly weeping because Garrett had been right last night to be wary of Jane. She was all the things he had said and more; she was a nightmare—but oh, how _could _she be when she had shown and expressed so much more?

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Maura leaned forward and put her arms around Garrett, pulling him into a gentle embrace. He stiffened beneath her, and Maura thought dimly to herself that she could not blame him: being this close, showcasing this much affection on a public porch in broad daylight was the definition of impropriety. Or maybe it would have been in Boston—maybe here, the rules were a bit more lax. Maybe in a town where people not only expected but often embraced the antics of Calamity Jane, an engaged couple hugging was not the most scandalous thing they could imagine. Garrett ultimately returned the gesture, calmly patting the back of Maura's head and whispering reassurances into her ear.

Their moment was interrupted by Frankie, who had guilelessly walked up to them from Angela's saloon. "Mr. Fairfield!" he said. "Good to see you up and about!"

With an arm around Maura's waist, Garrett laughed and pointed at the cut above his forehead. "What can I say? I had excellent medical attention, and well, let's face it, the thing I injured most was my pride! It wasn't too terrible of a scrape."

"Glad to hear it!" Frankie said genially. "Maura, I was actually wondering if you would mind coming by and checking on Jane sometime today."

"I already have," Maura said tersely.

Raising his eyebrows at her tone, Frankie said, "Oh. Is…she…?"

"Your brother has already seen to treating her."

"My brother." Comprehension dawned on Frankie's face and he sighed, tipping his hat further back on his head. "Oh, boy. Sorry—I better get over there. Thanks for looking in!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran off.

Tommy had since left the house to check up on Angela's chickens, leaving Jane to her own devices. She had gotten up and stumbled to the cabinet where the boys kept the alcohol, grabbed the bottle of burgundy Angela had given her a month ago, and guzzled it straight out of the bottle. She needed to kill the renewed pain in her back and her side, but more than that, she had to drink to drown the memory of what she had just done to Maura. She had to eradicate, she had wipe out entirely, she had to _kill _the way Maura had looked at her, the conviction with which she had slapped Jane's cheek. Jane had already gotten angry, she had already wept, and the next step was the one she rarely reached: a combination of both. It was a stage she went to only in times of great desperation, when she wanted to absolve herself completely of emotion, to smother all her feelings.

But it didn't fully work. The memory of Maura was too strong.

When Frankie got back, Jane was sitting in a corner of the kitchen, the near-empty bottle of burgundy in her hand. Frankie swore under his breath and fell to his knees at her side, yanking the bottle out of her loose grip. She half-heartedly reached for it, her aim far off.

"Jane, where's Tommy? Where's Tommy?"

"I dunno," she mumbled. "Went out." She held out her wrists. "You ain't deputy, are ya, Frankie?"

"No…"

"Can you arrest me anyway?"

"Jane—"

"Arrest me. Take me to Korsak. I done a bad thing." She shook her head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. "I'm a menace, Frost."

"Um, it's Frankie."

"Right. Frankie. Lock me up, Frankie. Lock me up, little brother. I assaulted a woman."

Frankie grabbed Jane by the elbow and pulled her up with him. "What're you talking about, sis?"

"Maura was here, and I assaulted her."

"I'm sure you didn't."

Jane growled and shoved Frankie against the wall so hard that the shelf nearest him rattled precariously. "No!" she yelled. "I _did! _I hurt her, Frankie, and if you saw what I done and I was a man, you'd have locked me up!" When Frankie took a step towards her, Jane used both hands to shove him against the wall again. "Frankie, I'm Jake. Jake Wyatt. I found a woman and I battered—I batted—her. What're you gonna do about it? Huh?"

Now genuinely concerned and confused, Frankie stayed where he was and said, "I don't know what kinda game you got in your drunk head, but—"

He swore in alarm when Jane stepped right up to him, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt and snarling, "I ain't messin' around, Frankie! This ain't a game!" She made a sudden choking noise, and for one highly unpleasant moment Frankie worried she was going to throw up on him. Instead, she began crying again; fat, ugly tears rolled out of her eyes and into her now-quivering mouth. "Lock me up, Frankie, please. Take me to the Sheriff. Lock me up."

After a bit more negotiating, Frankie finally agreed to escort Jane to the Sheriff's office. They doubled up on his horse, Jane behind her brother with her arms limply around his waist. He clasped her hands with one of his own to ensure she held on, and used the other to grasp the reins. They couldn't move very fast, because when they did, Jane would moan as if she were about to hurl. Consequently, Frankie thought they might have made just as good time if they'd walked, but this was still easier than dragging her along by hand. When they reached the Sheriff's office, Frost (who had been talking with Korsak and seen the Rizzoli's approaching) walked outside and helped Frankie get Jane off the horse.

"Frost!" Jane yelled happily. "Guess what? Secret's out! I told Frankie how I'm Wake J—wait. Jake Wyatt! Ha, ha!"

"Oh, boy," Frost sighed. "Some imagination when she gets like this, huh?"

"You see her like this much?" Frankie asked, starting the process of helping Jane inside.

Noting Frankie's terseness, Frost said, "Not hardly ever. I mean, listen to her, she's nuts. Sayin' she's Jake Wyatt…"

Frankie snorted. "Yeah. Korsak," he said when they got inside. "Got a prisoner for ya. Jane's turning herself in."

"On what charges?" Korsak asked, getting a whiff of Jane's breath. "Phew! What is it, drunken revelry? Get in a fight, Calamity?"

When Jane didn't respond, Frankie said, "She says she assaulted Dr. Isles—no idea what happened. Maybe they got in an argument or somethin' when Maura went by to check on her."

"The doc came by this morning?" Frost asked sharply. "Was Jane like this?"

"Yeah, I think so," Frankie answered.

Korsak and Frost exchanged a significant look, and after another moment's pause, the Sheriff stepped up to take Jane's arm from her brother. "Frankie, go find Dr. Isles and bring her here. We'll uh, take care of your sister, here."

"You gonna lock me up, Korsak?" Jane asked morosely as Frankie quickly left. "Put me away, put bars behind me?"

"If that's what you want," Korsak said.

Jane nodded wearily, and Korsak needed Frost's assistance in helping Jane over to the single indoor cell, which was currently empty. It was usually reserved for excessively violent prisoners who might rile up their fellow inmates, or occasionally for men who got so drunk their wives didn't know what to do with them for the night. It helped Korsak keep an eye on them as well as keep them from disturbing—again—the other inmates. It saddened him to have to put Jane in that tiny cell, without a bench or a chair, but she seemed content to go lie in the corner.

"Jane?" said Frost as Korsak locked the grimy door. "Did Dr. Isles come over this morning to see you?"

"Yeah," Jane yawned.

"What'd she do?"

Jane closed her eyes and sighed. "She didn't do nothin'. I did it. I hurt her."

"How?"

She groaned loudly. "Don't remember. All's I know is I done somethin' bad."

Frost clapped Korsak on the shoulder and nodded behind him. The two men walked out of Jane's line of vision, lowering their voices. "This could be bad, Korsak," Frost muttered.

Korsak glanced over his shoulder, even though he couldn't see Jane anymore. It broke his heart to see her this completely slobbering drunk in his town, _her _town. Like a man, like the worst of men. "Does she get like this often?"

Frost shook his head. "Nope. No way. It's just too dangerous—I mean she mouthed off to Frankie about being Wyatt just now. 'Course he just figured it was drunken rambling, but that kinda talk could get her in trouble other places. She's gotta drink now and then, though, to get in with guys, y'know? If she hits the right amount, it'll loosen her up a bit, get her going. Tough. Angry." He shrugged. "Scary, sometimes. But this?" He nodded at in the direction of Jane's cell. "She don't get this way unless she's in a lotta pain, or upset as hell. After we've caught someone in the act, or seen or done somethin' real violent, and it's just me and her… sometimes she drinks like this."

"And?" Korsak asked weakly.

"Whole other animal," Frost said seriously. "She can't hold it together. She snaps."

"You know what happened to her," Korsak said. "You know what she's been through."

"_I _do," Frost said. "Dr. Isles don't. And if Jane can scare _me_ and hurt _me_, Korsak, I don't like to think what she coulda done to Dr. Isles." He shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. "It's ugly. She ain't herself—it's the _only _way she can think to get a load off her shoulders, you know? Drink goes to her head, and she doesn't have to handle it."

"Skirting around responsibility? That don't sound like Jane Rizzoli."

"Like I said, it ain't," Frost grunted. "And I dunno, maybe it's my fault for lettin' her do it sometimes, but I feel like I got to, you know? She don't got anyone or anything out there. She's got to have a way out, out of Jake Wyatt. Out of the past."

Korsak slowly shook his head. "There's gotta be a better way."

"I agree, sir."

"How about you then, Frost? You still determined to get this guy? You still willing to give up your whole life to catch him, when ya got no solid leads, no solid evidence?"

An indefinable sighing, grunting noise issued out of Frost as he put one boot up on the chair he had recently vacated. Leaning one arm on his knee, he loosened the red kerchief around his neck and lowered his voice even more, just in case Jane could hear. "Well Sheriff, it's like I was sayin' earlier, before Frankie come in. Jane reckons we've got a real chance. We could get him in the next couple of months, maybe. She wants to lay low until we get word, so no more runnin' around until that happens."

"And if it doesn't?" Korsak pressed him. "If it's another dead end?"

Frost sighed heavily, and it was a while before he answered. "Truth?"

"Yeah."

"I'm tired of this," Frost whispered, sounding defeated and ashamed. "It's been eleven years since that man killed my parents, and it's been ten since I teamed up with Jane. I ain't gone soft, Korsak, I ain't forgiven him for what he done. It's just that—I mean for a long time, I've thought that if he walked free, he won. But now I'm thinkin' I lose either way: if he goes, or if I spend my whole life chasin' a ghost. At least if I stop runnin' after him, I can have my life, you know?"

"Yes, son. I know."

Frost nervously walked over to Jane's cell and saw that she was dead asleep. "I know Jane'd say I was a coward for sayin' something like that, but I can't help it. I want him dead as much as she does, and maybe if we had more of a solid chance, I'd be up for it." Heaving his shoulders, he walked back to the front of the office, gripping the back of his chair. "But I think it's been too long now. I've missed too much. I know things ain't great for people dark as me, but out here, I feel like I could maybe get more of a chance than in the south, at least. I could have a life."

"You could have a life here if you want it, Frost," Korsak said seriously. "I'd see to that."

"Thanks, Sheriff. But Jane…" There was so much he could say, but he didn't know where to start. Jane would see it as an act of ultimate betrayal if Frost were to abandon the cause, and furthermore, he hated the idea of her trying to go around alone. They might not be the best of friends, but they were partners who depended on each other. And there was also the feeling that although her primary motivation in her rugged lifestyle was tracking down the man who had murdered her parents, there was also a freedom and expressiveness she could embrace that she wouldn't have been able to (to the same degree) in Hollow Creek. The world was her backyard, and especially when she was in disguise as Jake, nobody gave her lip or told her there was anything she couldn't do. Frost often admired her initiative, but couldn't help feeling this behavior was a bit self-serving.

Before he could say anything, Frankie had arrived back at the office with a skeptical Maura close behind. "She was working with Dr. Byron," he said to Korsak, "and I could only get her away when I said it was the Sheriff who wanted to see her."

"Good man, Frankie," Korsak said. "Dr. Isles, this'll only take a moment of your time, I promise. I just need you to take a look at one of our jailbirds here."

Looking a little startled by this request, Maura said, "Oh, well, all right. Where is he?"

Korsak nodded at Frankie and Frost, indicating that they should leave. Once they had walked outside and Frost had swung the door closed behind him, Korsak led Maura over to the small cell inside his office. Her expression upon seeing Jane initially showed a heavy dose of astonishment, but she masked it quickly. But Korsak, being perceptive, noticed it. "She brought herself in."

"Oh, yes?" Maura asked softly, turning away.

"Yes," Korsak said, following her and stepping purposefully in front of her when it looked as though Maura was trying to leave. "Frankie said she insisted he bring her here, and she told me to lock her up. Can you tell me why?"

"She didn't give you a reason?"

His frown became more pronounced. "I'll get right to it, Dr. Isles, so you can get back to work. She said she assaulted you." Maura clearly hadn't been expecting this, and was unable to hide her emotions this time. She raised her eyebrows and took a small step back, opening her mouth but not saying anything. Korsak continued: "I need to know what she meant by that."

When Maura considered it, she figured Jane's choice of words hadn't been that far off, and yet "assault" sounded so much deadlier than what she had done. "Well, she—she was drunk, Sheriff, as I'm sure you noticed."

"Yes, I did. Would you tell me what happened? I'm not sure she'll remember when she sobers up."

Maura cleared her throat and tried to look dispassionate again. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate question to ask, Sheriff."

"You're right. Maybe it's not. I suppose what I really want to know is how you feel about Jane. You'd consider her a friend, wouldn't you?"

"Up until this morning I would, yes," Maura said softly. "But friends don't do… they don't do what she did to me."

Appearing unfazed by this, Korsak said, "Do you know why she was drunk?"

Maura sighed. "Apparently Tommy thought it would help cure the pain, which it did, but only temporarily, and in a way it's just made things worse. She's going to feel awful when she comes out of it."

"No matter how much physical pain she feels, I can guarantee that she will feel worse about whatever it is she's done to you," Korsak said in a level voice. Maura contracted her brow, shaking her head slightly. "I mean it, Dr. Isles. You don't know Jane like I do."

"I don't think I know her at all."

"Nobody does, not really. Gathering from what Frost has told me, what Jane's sent in letters, and what I've heard from stories about Jake Wyatt, Calamity Jane leads two very different lives. Now I know, you already knew that, seeing as how you know who Jake Wyatt really is. But you don't know the kinds of things Jane has had to do for her survival. You don't know how many times she's been in death's grip, only to have Frost come in and save her at the last second. You don't know how often she's had to be the one to save _him_, to jump into situations where people were gettin' ready to lynch him or worse. Jane's told me you know her father was killed. But that's ain't the least of what the man who done it has done to Jane and her family. You can imagine how horrible it would be to have your father murdered—well, Jane's had to deal something even worse than that, and it's haunted her for over half her life. She ain't like other folk, Maura. Not at all."

With a frustrated gesture towards Jane's cell, Maura said, "What does that mean then, Sheriff? That I have to just accept behavior like this?"

"Jane came in here this morning more drunk than I or Frankie have ever seen her," Korsak said. "It ain't usual. My guess is that she took whatever Tommy gave her, then got worse after she did whatever it was she did to you. Jane's always been the most loyal kid I know." He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. "Guess she ain't a kid anymore. But my point is that she may be a little rough around the edges, but when she stops to take the time for a human connection, she don't trade it for anything. She sets a lot of store by you, doc."

"She hurt me," Maura said weakly, and the story—or most of it—came pouring out of her. "She wants me to be like her, Sheriff, and I can't! She made out that every man out here is an animal intent only on hurting and destroying and conquering women in any way that he can, and she tried to make me defend myself, and I—I c-couldn't, I'm wasn't strong enough, and I was too shocked by what she was doing!"

Korsak didn't want to ask her to elaborate, but now that Maura had told him this much, he felt like he needed at least a little more information, or else he would be imagining a scenario possibly much worse than the one that had actually happened.

Fortunately, Maura intuited that she needed to say more: "She grabbed my wrists and wouldn't let go. She wanted to make me escape, and I-I couldn't." She shrugged and took a shallow breath, tears threatening to fall again. "She wants I should be like her."

"She wants you should be safe. Granted, she didn't exactly go about it in the best of ways, but I hope you know she wouldn't ever hurt you in her right mind. You ever been drunk, Dr. Isles?"

"Certainly not. The only drunk people I've ever even seen before I came out here were some of my mother's friends in Europe."

"Europe, huh? Why'd they drink?"

"Why? Well—I imagine for the same reason most people do—to loosen up their inhibitions, to have fun."

Korsak shook his head. "That's not why Jane drinks. And you may be smart, doc, you may be sharp, but unless you've ever been drunk yourself, you can't hold Jane to any kind of standard. You must have at least an idea of the effects alcohol has on the mind; I'm sure your mother's friends acted different when they'd had too much to drink."

"They did, but nothing like what Jane—"

"That's because they don't have to keep the things inside that she does," Korsak interrupted. "They don't have darkness like that bottled up all the time. Dr. Isles, I ain't askin' you to be her best friend, or even to spend time with her again. I just want you to know she wouldn't ever do nothin' like this in her right mind, and I know when she wakes up she's gonna be mighty sick at the thought of what she's done to ya."

A long silence passed before Maura finally said, "Well, Sheriff, if that's all…"

"One more thing, Dr. Isles. Do you remember what I told you yesterday? I want Jane to feel safe in this town. I want her to feel like she can have a life here. If she does that, if she'll just let go of Jake, I sincerely believe that nothing like this would ever happen again. She wouldn't have reason for it to. She thinks you're incredible—heck, we _all_ do—but comin' from Jane, that's sayin' something. She don't hand out respect very often. Please, just—take everything into consideration. I'll understand if you don't forgive her, but give her a chance at least. That said..." He took a deep breath; he didn't like talking this much. "If Jane were a man, I'd keep her in here a long time for what she done to you. We don't really have protocol for uh, violence against ladies from other women. I'm going to keep her locked up as long as she asks me to, or as long as you'd feel comfortable with."

Maura looked at him long and hard, betraying no emotions as she surveyed the desperation in his countenance. When Korsak didn't say anything else, Maura turned and headed for the door. "I'll ask Dr. Byron to come by and bring her some new bandages," was all she said in a crisp tone before leaving Korsak alone and not very reassured.

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><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. Also, an anonymous reviewer asked if I had any idea how many chapters this story was going to be, and I have to be honest- I have no idea. There are at least three major plot points that still need to happen (the last of which involving Hoyt), and after that, it depends on how much you want of actual Rizzles. Because I do have stuff in mind, so to be honest, I think this story could just go on for...ever, maybe? Haha, but seriously. I definitely would've thought I'd have covered more ground in 22 chapters, but I've gotten caught up in the details and it's been too fun. So to make long answer short (too late), I really don't know how many chapters this will be!  
>oh and <strong>p.s.<strong>, I know this is a really dorky thing to bring up, but I'm close to breaking 600 reviews on this story! That's a way higher number than I ever could have even imagined to expect, and I really can't tell you how much I appreciate every word. Feedback is so rewarding for this kind of work, so thank you SO, so much, everyone! :)


	23. A Problem to Be Solved

**A/N**: Looks like I need to clear something up. Worry not, readers- **Rizzles **is going to happen. Big time. Just not yet. My dilemma was how much of it to include, and a couple of people have suggested writing a sequel in this universe to explore our ladies when they are actually together. ...I may have to do that.  
>Also, oh my goodness. Over 600 reviews! This is crazy. Thank you guys so much. The support means a lot, and definitely inspires me to work faster. Reviews are the best kind of love, and please keep 'em comin'! :)<p>

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><p>When Jane woke up, it was late afternoon. Her eyes opened and her first thought was that her entire body ached. There was pain all over. She was in a very uncomfortable position, leaning her back against a brick wall with one leg bent at the knee and the other straight out. Any way she tried to turn would not ameliorate the pain, and in some ways made it worse. She recognized where she was, and the day's events came washing back over her. Now the pain was no longer external: to say that her heart ached at the thought of what she had done to Maura would not be a strong enough sentiment. Jane rubbed her chest and took a deep breath, trying to patch together her drunken memories, to get them straight—all she could remember for sure was that Maura had slapped her, looked a her like she was a villain.<p>

"You're up."

Jane looked over and saw Korsak sitting calmly at his desk, looking at her with an expression that was a mix of concern and… disappointment? With a groan, Jane sat up straighter, much as it hurt. "What happened?" she mumbled. "How'd I get here?"

"You don't remember?" Korsak asked patiently, turning fully to look at her. "Frankie said you insisted he bring you here."

"He did? I mean, I did?" Groaning again, Jane gritted her teeth and pressed a hand against her forehead.

"I reckon you're gonna be sore for quite a while," Korsak said conversationally. "Starting with your head. You drank quite a bit there, Jane."

"Boy, don't I know it," she moaned. "I ain't …I ain't been like this in a long time."

When she didn't say anything else, Korsak figured he'd press his luck by saying, "Dr. Isles came by." He was rendered temporarily silent by the increased look of pain on Jane's face. "She didn't say much, Jane. All's I know is…" He sighed deeply. "You scared her pretty bad."

Now it was coming back to her; she had slammed Maura against a wall, trying to make a point, had grabbed her wrists. _Idiot! What on earth's wrong with you? _"I had a good thing goin' here, Korsak, and I made a mess of things. What've I done?" She moved to draw her legs up to her chest, but the wound on her side burned in protest. Swearing lightly, she twisted to lie on her other side and screwed her eyes shut, missing the sympathetic look on Korsak's face. "How'd—how could I go and do something so cruel?"

"You know why," Korsak said, causing Jane to open her eyes and stare at him. "Drinkin' like you did, Jane? I'm surprised Jake Wyatt didn't make an appearance."

"He basically did. It wasn't pretty. Korsak, I… you're right, I mean, I let the liquor get to me. That ain't no excuse for what I done, though. I shoulda told her to leave, or I shouldn't of let Tommy give me all that whiskey. It just hurt so bad—" She groaned and pressed a hand to her side. "It hurt so bad, and that was the only way to kill it. I didn't ever want to hurt Maura like that, I mean, I just want—I want her to be… _safe_, Korsak, you know?"

"Safe from what, Jane?"

"From… I dunno, everything," Jane muttered.

"Garrett Fairfield's a good man, Jane," Korsak said, guessing vaguely what had been bothering her. "He'll take good care of Dr. Isles, you don't have to worry about that."

"How can he?" Jane grumbled. "Didn't even _try _to go after the man that stole his money. Coward."

"Or maybe just smart?" Korsak offered. "He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up, so rather than risk his life goin' after a few dollars, he told the proper authorities about it. That _is _part of the reason why I'm here, you know, Jane. Sometimes I think you forget the law exists. You don't _have _to take everything personally, you don't have to make every fight _your_ fight. This town needs more people like Garrett and Maura, hell; the whole West does. They got class. They got good education. They'll raise good citizens, and that'll _draw _good citizens."

An image swam into Jane's hazy mind of Garrett and Maura sitting on his front porch, surrounded by half a dozen kids playing in the yard. Or the boys would be playing, anyway, possibly with their father, while the girls clustered around Maura with their books and their drawings. To the delight of the children, Garrett would blow smoke rings from his cigar, and the kids would try to catch them as if they were lightning bugs. Maura would look on smilingly until night fell and it was her turn to take over, and she would point out the constellations to the children who so adored her. Yes sir, the Fairfields would be the very definition of a happy family, with Garrett solidly at the head and Maura exceedingly joyful to be at his side.

A burning sort of feeling had risen in Jane's chest, and she pressed her hand against the spot. She attributed it to the overall pain that was ever-so-present all over her body, not paying attention to the fact that the burn got stronger the more she imagined a detailed vision of Maura's future without her. She knew Korsak was right in saying Garrett was a good man, that he would treat Maura right. _So why do I feel like they shouldn't be together?_

"What're you thinkin' about, Jane?" Korsak asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

"I'm thinkin' that if I hadn't promised you and Ma I'd be here for Thanksgiving, I'd leave town right now."

"Coward."

"What'd you say?" Jane asked sharply, sitting up again.

"You heard me, Jane Rizzoli. If you want to skip town without so much as trying to _apologize_ to Dr. Isles, you're a blithering coward."

With great effort, Jane got to her feet, leaning on the wall for support. "Don't call me a coward, Korsak. Don't ever."

Appearing intimidated by her dark tone, Korsak merely shrugged and stood up. "I'm just sayin', Jane. You like to do what's right, and it won't be easy—and hell, I don't know how she'll react to ya, seein' as how I don't know exactly what happened—but you gotta at least try to let her know how sorry you feel."

"It's too late," Jane muttered, rubbing the sore on her side. "She'll never see me as anything but a monster. And after what I done, I can't blame her."

"You should sit back down," Korsak said gently. "I'd let you out, but I feel I sorta ought to keep you in for a little while, considering…"

"Considering what I did to Dr. Isles, yeah. I deserve to be in here."

"She said she'd ask Dr. Byron to come by with some new bandages for you."

"Fantastic," Jane mumbled, sitting back down on the floor. Korsak then left to go check in with Grant, who was watching the other cells. Jane tried not to breathe in too deeply, because whenever she did, a sharp pain stabbed her side. What hurt worse was the fact that she had no idea where to even begin trying to apologize to Maura. How could she convince her to trust her again? How could she make Maura believe she would never be that drunk in front of her again? Jane had wanted so badly to keep Maura from ever seeing that part of her, the worst part, and she instead she had let it fly out of control right in front of that woman, that lady. _What she must think of me now …if I were her, I'd never want to see me again. I've got make this right. I've got to. _

The only thing that gave her hope was the recollection of something Maura had admitted to her only yesterday, though it felt like eons ago: _"I don't want you to be just a memory, Jane."_

At this point in time, Maura thought she would have been happy had she never even known Jane, if her memory didn't even exist—but Jane was the only thing she could think about. She spent the next few hours in a relative daze, constantly needing to ask Garrett (when she accompanied him back to work) or Dr. Byron to repeat what they had said. Trying to reconcile the Jane she had known with the Jane she had met that morning was making Maura's head hurt, desperately though she wanted to understand it all. Was alcohol really so potent that it could bring it out something so dastardly? Korsak had made a good point in saying that no matter whether she had studied its effects on people (which she hadn't), Maura could never get a very good understanding of what the drinking had done to Jane when she had never tasted anything remotely strong herself.

After she had made Dr. Byron repeat twice that he was going to drop something off with the postmaster, he said, "Maura, should I be worried? Your head seems like it's somewhere else today."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Byron, I've just got something on my mind is all. Would you do me a favor?" she asked, quickly wanting to get the focus off of her. "Jane is with the Sheriff has some wounds that need re-bandaging. Would you mind seeing to it after you see the postmaster?"

"Certainly, Maura," he said, though he looked a little surprised. "May I inquire as to why you wouldn't rather attend to her yourself?" He asked only because it had become customary for Maura to treat all female patients when it was within her power to do so.

"You may inquire, Dr. Byron, but I'd rather not tell you."

Gallantly respecting her privacy, Dr. Byron assured Maura he would take care of it, then left to go drop off his letter. Maura was just wondering where she ought to go when Angela appeared suddenly at her side. "Maura! Dear, I've been hoping I might run into you."

"Have you?"

"Yes. Uh…Tommy told me you went by to see Jane this morning. And I hear she wasn't in quite a proper state to receive you."

"Angela," Maura said with a sharp breath. "If you're going to talk to me about how Jane can't be held responsible for what she did because she was intoxicated, I've heard it. The Sheriff has already made that quite clear."

Clear, but the message didn't seem to have set in. "Come with me," Angela said shortly, taking Maura's arm and leading her towards the saloon. Instead of going inside, though, she led Maura up the outdoor staircase that went straight up to Angela's tiny living quarters. Maura had never been inside it before, and she got the impression that not many people had. There was one chair in the room, which Angela invited Maura to sit on while she remained standing, ready to pace and lecture. "I'm not going to excuse Jane's behavior, Dr. Isles—and I don't even know exactly what it is she's done. Did she hurt you? Physically, I mean."

Maura wavered before answering. "Yes."

Angela frowned. "Bad?"

_Badly_, Maura couldn't help correcting to herself. After a moment's deliberation, she decided to take off her gloves and show Angela what she hadn't revealed to Frankie or Korsak and certainly not to Garrett. At the sight of Maura's discolored wrists, Angela let out some sort of defeated, depressed noise and she sank down on the edge of the bed, gently taking Maura's hand.

"Please, Dr. Isles. Tell me everything that happened. You don't have to be embarrassed or afraid—I swear I won't tell a soul. Just please, tell me."

Maura swallowed hard, averting her gaze. She didn't even like to think about what Jane had done, but she could hear the tender concern in Angela's tone, wanting only to understand so she could help. "Jane… grabbed my wrists," she said in a cracked voice. "She wanted to see what I would do if… if someone ever tried to take advantage of me."

"Did she do anything else?"

The alarm in Angela's voice caused Maura to look at her again. "Not quite. She had me pressed against a wall so I had no escape." She shrugged and hunched over slightly. Her wrists didn't really even hurt anymore, at least not nearly as much as her second-guesses about Jane.

"How did it end?"

"She slackened her grip at one point, and I was able to pull free. She tried to apologize, but I…" _Slapped her. I've never slapped anyone in my life. _"I didn't want to hear it."

Angela was just shaking her head, staring down at the floor. "Oh, Dr. Isles. I'm sorry. I've let you down again."

Well, _that _was an unexpected turn. "_You? _Angela, what on earth do you mean?"

"I mean before, when Jane took off for those few weeks, I was sorry I encouraged you to be friends because it's Jane's way to just get up and leave, usually without sayin' goodbye. You're so sweet, and I didn't want you to be heartbroken when it didn't seem like she cared. And now she's come back, and Jane—she ain't like other women, Maura, she don't know how to interact in a normal, respectable way."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Maura sighed. "But Jane—until this morning, she's been so sweet to me, so kind. She's—oh, I couldn't even begin to go into detail of what she's done. There's too much. That's why I couldn't believe it when she … did what she did this morning. It frightened me, seeing that part of her."

Angela was shaking her head again, this time in disbelief. "I don't know what it is about you, Dr. Isles, but you must be really something special. You know Jane ain't ever had a girl friend her whole life? Oh, wait! I forgot about Emily."

"Who's Emily?"

"Her family used to live next door to Jane's, and she and Jane were the same age. They were fairly close until they turned about… thirteen." Angela raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice. "Emily, well, she started attracting attention from the boys. The boys liked Jane, too, but they didn't see her as a woman the way they did Emily. If you ask me, when Emily stopped hanging around, that's the last time Jane wanted anything to do with other girls."

"Did anything ever happen to Emily? Was she ever… I mean, did anything bad ever come of all that attention?" _Maybe that's why Jane was trying to warn me…_

"Not that I know of. She married Steve Sanders when she was sixteen and moved to Colorado. Haven't seen or heard from them since. Oh, wait, they _did _send a photograph of them in front of their new house once! I tell you, Dr. Isles, photography sure is somethin' else. Ain't it a miracle? You ever had your picture taken?"

"I haven't, actually. I _have _sat for several portraits by my mother and her friends, though. There must be a dozen paintings of me stashed away in basements all over Europe."

"Do you think you and Mr. Fairfield might get one taken on your wedding day? You really should! Imagine what a lovely keepsake that would be for you and your children, you in your wedding dress! Do you know Adelaide Johns?"

"I do…" Maura wasn't sure how the topic of their conversation had changed so suddenly, but she certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

"Her husband was the first man in the county to own a camera, and he did some lovely work. She still has it, his camera, I mean, and she's been practicing. Got pretty good, too! You should ask her to take one for you!"

"Oh, I don't kn—"

"Really, Dr. Isles, I don't think you'll be sorry," Angela said, getting up and crossing the room to her tiny dresser. Rummaging through some papers in the top drawer, she said, "I wish more than anything that I had a photograph of my husband, my son, my daughter. I remember what they look like, but I know there are details I'm forgetting." She laughed shakily. "And that breaks my heart, it really does." Finally she found what she had been looking for, and with the small slip of paper held to her chest, she said, "This is the only photograph I've got, and it ain't even my real family." She sat back down on the bed, handing it over to Maura.

Someone had hand-written the date _1867 _in the top right corner of the photograph above its subjects, who were unmistakably Jane, Frankie, and their father. It was shocking how clear the picture was, unlike other photographs Maura had seen taken by amateurs, which were usually quite blurry. Jane and Frankie flanked their father, who was sitting between them with his arms crossed solemnly and one leg sticking straight out. Frankie was resting his elbow on his father's shoulder, looking a tad bored. He and his father looked incredibly alike—the same nose, same mouth, same eyes that shone despite the darkness of their color. They were dressed in their Sunday best, perhaps another reason for Frankie's vaguely annoyed expression.

Posing for this photograph had actually been one of the last times Jane had worn a dress. The deal was that if she wore it, she wouldn't have to do anything about her hair, which was what had tipped off Maura to Jane's identity. It looked exactly the same as it did now, long, dark, and scraggly. She had one arm around her father's neck and was leaning against the wall behind her for support, tired of standing for so long (in such uncomfortable shoes, no less). Because it took so long for a camera to record its subjects, people were rarely able to be captured in a grin—it was simply too much of a strain to keep a smile on for that long; hence, Frankie's subtle frown and their father's grave expression. It would be a bit of a stretch to say that Jane was smiling, but the corners of her mouth were curved just ever so slightly upwards, as if she had been gamely attempting to smile and it had faded without her knowledge.

"Janie was always sweet to me," Angela said as Maura continued to hungrily study the photograph. "Like I've told ya, she needed somebody to mother her and I, well, I needed somebody to mother! When she was twelve years old and she asked what I wanted for my birthday, I said I'd love it if she could convince Mr. Johns to take a photograph of her family for me. Tommy was sick that day, or else he'd have been in it, too." She sighed wistfully. "Mr. Johns was so great about it, he took two. Frankie's got the other one, thank God. I'm sure if Jane knew where he kept it, she'd rip it up." Angela smiled when Maura wordlessly handed the photograph back to her, and she surveyed Jane. "I look at this picture at least once a day, usually more when Jane's gone. It helps remind me of what she used to be before …I mean, it sort of gives me hope that maybe she could be that way again."

Maura could hardly recognize her own voice when she asked, "What way is that, exactly?"

With a gentle shrug, Angela responded, "Innocent."

_Innocent_. That photograph really _was_ a relic. Maura could no more easily picture an innocent phase in Calamity Jane's life than she could imagine a way to reawaken the dead.

"The worst thing she had to worry about was keeping the dog away from the chickens," Angela chuckled. "Or trying not to cross that _wicked _schoolteacher of hers." She sighed again, heavier this time. "Every time she leaves, I tell myself I've lost my patience, that I can't forgive her for breaking my heart. But then I see this picture, and I just think—I think that if Jane can find whatever it is she's looking for, if she could just be this happy again, I'd be grateful. No matter _what _it takes, that's all I want for her. And when she comes back, I tell myself I'll be hard, that I won't let her off so easy. But she laughs and she teases us, and her brothers go crazy about her, and I can't be angry. Not really. I'm too happy to have her back, and it's almost like old times again. I've noticed things, though, Maura. I've noticed things."

"Such as what?"

"How fast she can snap. How quick she'll start up a fight if she feels she needs to. I don't know what she gets about doing with Frost, and I've learned not to ask, but I do worry. I been in this town a long time, Dr. Isles. Most of the men what come in my saloon, I've known 'em for years. I know what makes 'em happy, and I know what drives 'em wild. I know some of the stuff they bury that comes out when they drink too much, so in most cases, I know how much_ is_ too much. When it comes to Janie, only me and the Sheriff have an idea what's goin' on with her, but that's just an idea of how it started. I don't know what's happened since. She's got all kinds of secret sorrows I ain't privy to. If there's one thing I've learned runnin' a saloon, it's how fast too much drink can unlock all that pain and all that anger. Jane's got a lot to be angry about, _that _much I know. Dr. Isles, I _know _Jane didn't want to hurt you."

Maura had returned her gaze to her hands as she slowly began pulling her gloves back on. Despite her righteous indignation and the intensity of her desire never to be around Jane (at least alone) again, she was able to honestly say, "I know."

"From what you told me, it just sounded like Janie being, well, Jane. She wants to make sure you can be taken care of. Unfortunately, drinking didn't help her get it across in a bad way."

"Angela, I'm tired of hearing justifications for Jane's behavior," Maura said softly. "I've hardly had the time to process it myself."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to jump down your throat about anything," Angela said. "I just wanted to put in a word for Jane, if I could. I can't promise that she'll never get drunk around you again. I don't even know if I could promise she wouldn't ever hurt you again." She shrugged. "So I'm sorry. I hoped you'd be good for her, and I think you have been, but I wasn't thinking about _you_, and I shoulda been. Whether or not you forgive Jane and when you do if you choose to, that's all up to you. Don't let nobody else make that choice for you."

Maura nodded once, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn't want to talk about this anymore; she didn't want other people telling her about Jane anymore.

Sensing Maura's discomfort, Angela slowly stood up and said, "Well, I figure I ought to get back to work. I was only out to close a deal with my barley supplier!"

"Yes, I have business to attend to as well," Maura said, getting to her feet and heading for the door that would lead back outside. "Er… thank you, Angela." _I think_.

"Goodbye, Dr. Isles."

As she walked down the stairs, Maura reflected on how many times she had told Angela that she didn't need to be so formal, but the woman found it difficult to address such a classy, educated woman so casually. That was why she flipped back and forth from addressing her as Maura or Dr. Isles, and Maura remembered how Jane had been the same way when they had first met.

Jane. _Jane. Jane! I can't think about her anymore, I can't. _What could she do about it, though? Being with Garrett hadn't helped, working with Dr. Byron hadn't helped, and if neither of those options had gotten Jane off her mind, what would?

She knew at some point that she really had to sit down and think about the implications and ramifications of what Jane had done, but this time, right now, wasn't the time to do it. She had to be alone with her thoughts, not surrounded by townspeople or patients or Dr. Byron or Garrett. Tonight then, when she was back at her own in the boarding house. Maura asked a passing man for the time, and garnered that she had three quarters of an hour before she was due for her next appointment (a sorry woman with an ingrown toenail). With this time to spare, Maura found herself walking towards the tailor's. Maybe now would be a good time to ask Adelaide about her photography.

But as soon as she walked into the shop and Adelaide caught sight of her, the old woman clasped her hands together and said, "Ah! I've been wondering when you would come by again, my dear! We never measured your inseam!"

"Pardon?"

"The inseam, dear, for your split skirt? The riding pants."

"The…oh, yes. Adelaide, I don't—"

Adelaide came over and with a surprisingly strong grip, took Maura's arm and dragged her into the back room. "I don't want to hear that you've gone and changed your mind! You made poor Jane suffer enough getting you other measurements. If I hadn't plain forgot we were making you _pants_, I'd have made sure she got the inseam before we measured your bust. But, well, I'm old…er than you, so things tend to slip my mind! This is my assistant Claire, by the way."

An olive-skinned woman looked up from the corner, where she had been leaning over a small bassinet. "Hello," she greeted Maura.

"Hello. Is that your baby?" she asked, walking over to peer inside the hooded cradle.

"Heavens no, Claire isn't married!" Adelaide said. "That's my granddaughter, Sadie! My son and his wife have come to visit me for Thanksgiving; they just arrived this morning! I sent them over to Green Forge for some shopping, which left me with Sadie all to myself. Isn't she just a dear?"

"Oh she's lovely, Adelaide."

"When she's asleep, yes," Adelaide admitted. "She can be a bit difficult to handle during her waking hours, I'm afraid. Anyhow, for your _and _Jane's sakes, I suppose it's a good thing we have Claire back! Maura, I was so thrilled when you requested a pair of riding pants. I don't get to make them very often, and get such fun doing them!"

It was because of Adelaide's enthusiasm that Maura allowed Claire to begin undressing her. She had planned on saying she no longer wanted the pants, but if it would make Adelaide so (inexplicably) happy, then it was a small sacrifice to make. When she thought about it, Maura found it strange to believe herself that it hadn't occurred to her either that the inseam hadn't been measured. Having Jane be so close to her must have been more distracting than she'd realized. She was also surprised at how fast Claire had been in removing Maura's many layers, but she figured that was the difference between someone who knew what she was doing versus someone like Jane, who occasionally looked as though she didn't know where to start when it came to dealing with her _own _clothes, let alone another person's.

"Um…Miss Adelaide? I can't find the tape measure."

"What! Have you been lending it out your friends again?"

"Of course not! Here, I have my own, we can—"

"I need _mine_, Claire. The numbers are big enough for my old eyes to read! You go right now and retrieve it from whoever it is you've leant it to, or go to the textile factory and buy another one!" When Claire just rolled her eyes, Adelaide said, "Go on! We'll wait for you!"

"I'll be back," Claire grumbled, taking her hat and walking out.

"I swear to high heaven if that girl didn't have such quick hands, I'd drop her in an instant," Adelaide muttered, sitting down and inviting Maura—again stripped down to a light corset and pantalets—to do the same. "I hope you don't mind waiting, my dear."

"No, that's quite all right. Considering Claire's speed, I should still have plenty of time to make my next appointment." Maura giggled as she settled into a high-backed chair. "Once when I was visiting my mother in Paris, a seamstress left me half-nude in her changing room while she allegedly ran out to find a sharper pair of scissors. My mother and I waited nearly an hour before she—my mother—went out to investigate, and we learned this girl had gone and run off with her lover while we were still waiting for her! I've no idea why she even bothered going to work that day if she had been planning such a dramatic exit!"

"Knowing Claire, we shouldn't write off the possibility that something similar might happen now," Adelaide chuckled. "Although for your sake, I certainly hope it doesn't." They heard the door to the tailor's open and close again, and Adelaide raised her eyebrows. "My goodness, is that her already?"

Maura froze when she recognized Jane's voice enquiring after Adelaide. When Mr. Whistler responded that she was in the back with a customer, Maura quickly waved to get Adelaide's attention. _"Don't let her back here!" _she mouthed desperately, shaking her head.

Looking confused, Adelaide nonetheless stood up and went out of the makeshift room to catch Jane. "Oh hello, dear!" she said in a loud voice. "I wasn't expecting you!"

"No, I didn't reckon ya would be, considering I didn't expect to be here myself."

"Jane, are you all right? You're standing funny."

"Got in a bit of scrape yesterday."

"Oh, that's right, you dashed out after something. Well, what happened this time?"

"Nothin'," Jane said stoically. "Just got hurt a bit is all. I just seen Dr. Byron and I reckon he bandaged me up pretty good."

"Dr. Byron? Shouldn't you have gone to Maura?"

Jane's tone was brusque. "Don't matter. The problem is beneath this vest, my shirt's torn all the way up the back."

"Yes, I noticed it was fitting you rather oddly…"

"Could ya make me a new one in this style? Maybe to go with the new suspenders and trousers you were gonna make?"

"Certainly, Jane."

"Say, who's back there with ya?"

"Hm? Oh, er, well—I'd invite you back, but it's old Biddy Charleston, and she—"

They were interrupted by a very loud wail from Adelaide's granddaughter, startling them both, but particularly Jane. "And she is…giving birth?" Jane asked, looking a bit grossed out.

"Don't be silly, that's my granddaughter—hold on just a moment, Jane, please? Don't leave yet!" With surprising speed, Adelaide reentered the changing room, glaring accusingly at Maura. But Maura held up her hands in protest of her innocence, not having moved since Adelaide had left. It seemed that Sadie had just woken up of her own volition, and she was not happy about it. Dearly though she loved her grandchild, Adelaide was useless when it came to bringing her down from a crying jag. The most frustrating thing was not knowing what had started the crying. Claire had a gift for calming babies down, and Adelaide wished she was still around. "Sadie, please calm down? I can't get any work done when you're so upset!"

"Is she hungry?" Maura guessed.

"She shouldn't be; Anna fed her quite recently. Oh dear, there you go, Sadie, it's all right," she cooed as the baby's volume decreased slightly and the crying became less desperate. "There you are. It's all right." But Sadie was still crying and in need of comfort, and much as Adelaide hated to admit it, the baby was starting to feel too heavy in her old, weak arms. "Maura, could you—? Oh, goodness, who knows how long this will take, and Claire might be back soon… hold on."

She exited the room again and noticed that Whistler had taken off at the sound of the baby crying, leaving Jane alone in the front of the store. When Adelaide approached her with the baby in her arms, Jane took a huge step back. "Whoa! Stop. No."

"Jane, are you going to let this child die? I'm weak and fragile and she's about to fall out of my arms. If you don't take her right now, God will hold you responsible for whatever happens!"

"You old badger," Jane mumbled, stepping quickly forward and taking the baby out of Adelaide's arms. As she awkwardly tried to position Sadie in a way that would be comfortable for both of them, Sadie's crying increased dramatically at being taken away from her grandmother. "Adelaide! Come on, what do I do? It's your problem, not mine!"

Adelaide smacked Jane's head with the ruler she kept stowed up her sleeves for just such occasions. "First of all, my granddaughter Sadie is a _girl_, not an _it_, and secondly, how dare you call her a problem!"

"The crying, I meant the crying!" Jane howled, unable to rub her head where Adelaide had hit it because otherwise she'd drop the baby. "How do I calm her down?"

"Rock her a bit. Look, here's a rocking chair right here. Sit down and rock her, and she'll be fine."

"Why do I get the feeling that it won't be so easy?" Jane grumbled, obediently sitting down.

"Persistence, Jane, it takes persistence," Adelaide chirped brightly. She put her hands on her hips and laughed at the sight of Jane trying clumsily to get Sadie to relax. "You're out of your element, aren't you, Calamity Jane? You ought to get more accustomed to holding babies, dear, if you're ever going to be a mother. Consider it a new challenge. Nothing scares _you_, does it?"

"Scaring is one thing," Jane said. "Annoying is another."

The remark earned her another ruler-slap to the head. "Don't call my granddaughter annoying."

"Hey, where are you goin'?" Jane asked when Adelaide turned to walk back into the changing stall.

"I'm working, Jane," she said sweetly. "Biddy is waiting."

Jane would have insisted on following her back there and shoving the baby back into Adelaide's arms if Biddy Charleston didn't bother her so much. It had been a clever lie on Adelaide's part—Biddy had never been silent on her disapproval of Jane's boyish ways, and would wax on for seemingly endless hours about all the ways Jane would one day wind up in hell for her crazy stunts. That wouldn't have been so intolerable on its own, but Biddy also insisted on frequently bringing up Jane's mother, who she had known well. "If your mother were still with us and saw what you were up to…" Nothing quite depressed Jane as much as thinking about the potential disappointment and disapproval her mother might have felt for her.

When Adelaide had returned to the changing room, Maura was still sitting, one hand wearily rubbing her forehead. Would there be no escaping Jane? Adelaide brought her chair over closer and sounded relieved to be able to sit again. "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?" she whispered. Maura shook her head. All she needed was to bring yet another person into the conversation of what had happened that morning. Adelaide would not be denied, though, at least not entirely. "I gather …there's some sort of problem between you and Jane." She sighed and leaned back when Maura granted her a stiff nod. "Well, this certainly is a day for problems, isn't it? My son's train gets in late, Claire loses my tape, Sadie cries incessantly…"

She stopped there, because she realized Sadie was no longer crying. Maura had noticed it as well, and had heard something else in its place. Overpowered by curiosity, Maura got quietly to her feet and walked over to the curtain door of the changing room, pressing herself against it to hear as well as she could. Adelaide collected her skirts and moved quietly as well, straining her old ears to listen to whatever Maura was hearing that was making her look as though she were on the verge of tears.

"_...my Mary's asleep by the murmuring stream …flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dreams…_"

Jane's voice was soft and low, fitting for a lullaby, but also well-suited for someone who did not wish to be overheard. Maura's heart leapt at the sound of one of her favorite melodies in Jane's transposed deeper register, quietly surprised that while Jane might not have the best singing voice in the world, she was able to hit every note. Throwing caution to the winds, Maura pulled the curtain back by an inch, just enough to be able to look out into the store. Her eyes quickly located Jane, sitting in a rocking chair by the window with Sadie reaching up, holding onto one of Jane's gloved fingers. Despite her crotchetiness and insistence that she didn't know how to handle babies, Jane was smiling down at Sadie with a look Maura wasn't entirely sure she had ever seen on the woman's face before.

One word flashed through her mind: _Innocence_.

Maura closed her side of the curtain again as Adelaide pulled back her end just a little to see what was going on. When Maura walked back to her chair weak-kneed and trembling, Adelaide saw Claire through the storefront's window, climbing up the front steps. _Poor Claire. I should be easier on her_.

"Maura," she said, sitting herself carefully down again. "If there's one thing I've learned in my many years of living, it's this: never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved."


	24. A Person to Be Loved

**A/N**: You guys are the best ever, seriously. Now I remember why it's so much easier to write here than on fictionpress, haha- people are more prone to writing reviews, which is really the best kind of encouragement any writer can get (positive or constructive). Seriously, I really appreciate it when you take the time to share your thoughts. It makes writing this much easier and all that more rewarding.  
>I should have given credit where it was due in the last chapter, though- would that I were brilliant enough to have come up with that last line! It was actually the motto of an old friend of mine, who got it herself from a sermon of some sort that she heard once. I've always found it a beautiful thought, and I'm glad so many of you agreed!<p>

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><p>As soon as Claire had returned with Adelaide's tape, Jane had offered her the baby and run right out of there. That was the last Maura saw of her for two full days, until Thanksgiving. Despite this, Jane still found several creative ways to remain a present part of Maura's life. She wasn't ready to ask straightforwardly for forgiveness, though she was starting to doubt that she ever would be, as she didn't feel deserving of it. Some part of her hoped that even if Maura never wanted to see her again, Jane could still let the woman know at least an inkling of the sorrow and self-hatred she was going through.<p>

It started the next morning when Maura went downstairs for breakfast and Melody greeted her with a bouquet of wildflowers, most of which appeared to be on the verge of death but still looked quite lovely.

"Why thank you, Melody, that's thoughtful of you!"

"Oh heavens, Miss Isles, I can't take credit for them! Somebody left them on my desk for you—there was a card with your name on it." She pre-empted Maura's next question by handing her the note and adding needlessly, "It wasn't signed, though."

Maura frowned curiously and carefully examined the very precise handwriting of her name. She would have immediately assumed the flowers were from Garrett, but the handwriting gave her pause, because it didn't quite look like his. It was a little less steady, yet seemed a little more studied, somehow. After a long pause, though, she said, "Oh, well, I'm sure they're from Mr. Fairfield!" _Perhaps he had his secretary send them_.

"That sure is a sweet man you're engaged to, Miss Isles!"

"I whole-heartedly agree."

But when Maura asked Garrett about the flowers when they met for lunch, he professed ignorance. She pestered him, inclined to believe he was just kidding around, but she quickly ascertained that he was quite serious. Furthermore he wanted to know exactly who had been sending flowers to his fiancé. He actually got rather agitated about it, which in retrospect, Maura felt she ought to have foreseen. In her defense, she had been honest in believing Garrett had sent them (or at least asked someone to), and she had no idea who else might have. Garrett demanded to know the name of everyone Maura had been in contact with lately.

"Garrett, I hope you don't think I—"

"Darling, I don't suspect _you _of anything," he said quickly, reaching over the able to take her hands. "But I'm sure any number of men in this town might be eager to get in your good graces, whether you mean to arouse their faculties or not."

"Or they could be from a woman," Maura suggested weakly. "One of my patients?"

Garrett looked sullen. "Why wouldn't they sign the note, then?"

Maura had to admit that was a fair point. "That's a fair point," she admitted. "Perhaps they were… embarrassed?" She shrugged half-heartedly and Garrett sighed, looking annoyed. "Garrett, dear, please don't let it bother you. I'm sure it was just…" She trailed off awkwardly because she had no idea how she could dismiss an anonymous floral delivery (and judging by Garrett's facial expression, he didn't either). Maura sighed and waved her hand. "I just don't think it's anything to be worried about, at least not yet. If anything else unusual like this happens, I'll be sure to let you know."

And the funny thing was that she _did _feel strangely calm, and thus was able to slightly assuage her fiancé's understandable discomfort. There was a slight nagging feeling that Jane had sent them, but Maura fought to ignore this impression. For all she knew, Jane had skipped town after her abominable behavior, although this seemed unlikely. Surely Korsak or Tommy would have told her if Jane had gone? Maybe not; maybe they wouldn't have seen it fit to tell her. But she had seen Frost around town, and Jane wouldn't have left without him, would she have? No, of course not.

After lunch, Maura returned to the boarding house to write a letter. As the words flowed from her pen to the paper, she became strangely conscious of how the letters looked, how they appeared almost magically on the page. She didn't have to stop and struggle, she didn't have to second guess herself or hesitate before she wrote—the words flowed effortlessly from her head to her hand, easily transcribing her thoughts onto paper. This time when Jane entered her mind, Maura felt no fear or anger, but pity. Growing up in Boston with a wealthy father (whose money always managed to keep the scandal of her mother at bay), Maura had been given the best education available and had been largely surrounded by people in similar circumstances. She couldn't begin to imagine how frustrating it must be to look at a page and not be able to read it, to have thoughts to get down but no way of doing so without going through another person…

She signed the letter and was reminded again of a specific moment in her impromptu, unsuccessful (in her eyes) lesson with Jane. The _a_'s in Maura sounded different from the _a _in Jane and even the _a _in Bass! How could she never have noticed what an impossible language this was? At the thought of her tortoise, Maura glanced over her shoulder at the corner which held his crate. Or… two crates? _Hm. I thought something seemed off in here_.

Maura got up and walked to the other side of the room, trying and failing to remember when she had gotten Bass a second crate. It was significantly larger than the one he was currently residing in (and due to grow out of soon), and it appeared to have been lined with some sort of cloth. Shifting to get onto her knees, Maura noticed that Bass's name had been scratched into one of the wooden slats making up the front of the crate, and this confirmed her initial belief: Jane and Korsak were the only people who knew about Bass's existence, and Jane was the only one who knew the name they had settled on.

_But how did she get in here? And if those flowers were from her, how did she get them to Melody's desk without anyone noticing? _

Looking doubtfully at the new crate, Maura gingerly picked up Bass and placed him inside of it. Being a tortoise, he was unable to communicate any overt signs of contentment or displeasure, but Maura did think that a bigger crate would come in handy eventually. According to the care pamphlet Jane had given her, Bass would grow to be quite sizeable one day—especially if he kept up on a good diet, like the head of cabbage Jane had also stuck in the new crate.

The next day, Maura decided to go to Korsak's ranch and take a ride on Wind Whistler. Naturally this made her think of her promise to let Jane teach her to ride "properly," and Maura vaguely wondered if that would still happen. _I didn't even want to learn in the first place. And why should I? Side-saddle is proper. Jane could stand to remember what proper behavior entails. Rascal_.

When Maura approached her horse, it took her a moment to realize what seemed different about her. It eventually dawned on her that the garish golden horseshoes Giovanni had forced on Wind Whistler had been replaced with normal ones. Maura had been thinking it would soon be time to get the horse new shoes, but she drew a blank on trying to remember who she might have told this to… unless someone had just guessed and taken initiative. Through some quick hint-dropping and clever questioning, Maura determined that it had not been Garrett or Korsak who had seen that Wind Whistler received new shoes, leaving her to once again suspect Jane. She remembered after they had returned from Green Forge with Wind Whistler's golden horseshoes, Jane had offered to change them for Maura.

_She said she might not be any good at it…wonder if they work at all_.

Maura led Wind Whistler around by the reins for a short while, and the horse seemed to be fine. When Maura saddled up, Wind Whistler rode like a dream, as if she was thrilled to have normal-looking shoes on her hooves again. With such a pleased horse beneath her, Maura decided to take her time riding, and it was such a freeing feeling. She had always been this way with horses: she forgot where she was, she felt unrestricted and a little wild, but not scandalous. It was easy to forget her problems and concerns, and she could be unrestrainedly happy.

This put her in an excessively good mood when she met Garrett for a boat ride on the lake and dinner afterwards. The cut in his forehead was nearly gone, and he hadn't brought it up since his brief argument with Maura the other day. He was as charming and genteel as ever, and Maura was again struck with how utterly ridiculous it would be to imagine that he might ever harm her.

"Letter for you, Miss Isles," Melody greeted her when she returned to the boarding house.

It was a small, very light envelope, and Maura curiously took it up to her room. Once the door was closed behind her, she lit the lamp on her desk and sat down to read. She probably didn't need to have sat, because the note was very short and didn't take long to go over:

"_Dear Maura, I am so sorry. Jane" _

That was it. Maura could only guess at how much time it had taken Jane to write a note less than ten words long, but she'd never have assumed it had taken hours. Jane had gone over and over the alphabet Maura had written out for her, trying to find letters to make up the words she wanted to say. But it made her head hurt trying to get out everything she wished she could express, and she knew that if she ever wanted to get it all off her chest, she'd have to speak to Maura face to face. She wanted desperately to write something though, anything, but was even more desperate not to look like an idiot. Having spent years watching Frost write letters, she had at least gotten "Dear" down pat, but she had no idea how to spell "sorry." After several attempts, none of which looked more legitimate than the other, Jane finally swallowed her pride and went to ask Frost for help. In their usual manner of communication when it came to personal matters, he didn't ask why she wanted to know and she didn't tell him. Once she had obtained the proper spelling, Jane spent an unduly long time writing and re-writing the note, trying to make her penmanship as nice as possible. She tried to copy the fluid, steady style of Maura's lettering, which proved to be exceedingly difficult. Seeing as Jane couldn't write as much as she'd like to (or that she felt the situation warranted), she wanted at least to be able to make her words as neat as possible. Maura needed some way of seeing that this wasn't meant to be an afterthought, or anything Jane was thinking about lightly.

Message received.

What humbled her the most (aside from Adelaide's advice) was merely remembering her wonderful father. Maura's mother had treated him terribly. She had used him, spoken poorly of him in Maura's presence, and seemed utterly unrepentant for the cruel things she had done. Her father could have fought back. He could have kept Maura from ever seeing her, ever knowing her. But he didn't. He found it within himself to forgive the woman who had broken his heart and nearly ruined his life, and did not consider it his responsibility to punish her.

_Father, what do I do? What would you have done?_

The next morning was Thanksgiving, and Maura walked in the direction of Angela's bar. As she hoped she might, she encountered Frost sitting on the front steps, tinkering with the heel of a woman's boot. She stood at a small distance observing him as he had yet to notice her presence. Maura felt an odd surge of affection for him just then, watching his concentration as he performed this simple task that was obviously for someone else. But then he looked up and saw her, and quickly shoved his hat off his head with an embarrassed grin.

"Good morning, Dr. Isles."

"Good morning, Frost," she said back, walking towards him. "Do you think that shoe is really your color?"

He laughed good-naturedly. "Sure, it just ain't my size! Nah, it's Angela's. I ain't a cobbler, but I told her I'd do my best to try and fix the heel after uh, after she broke it nearly tripping on a chair trying to avoid Jo Friday."

"Frost, will you do me a favor?"

"Need a shoe fixed?"

Maura smiled appreciatively. "If you see Jane …ask her not to be such a stranger."

Frost gave her a one-sided smile in return. "You got it, Dr. Isles. Jane's got a way of making sure she can't be found when she wants to, but I always know how to get a hold of her."

As it was a holiday, most businesses in town were closed, including the medical one (except for emergencies). Actually, Dr. Byron and Garrett had volunteered to go over to Wohaw Springs to collect pumpkins for a tureen that had just been requested for the town party, and Stanley wanted the biggest ones they could find. Figuring that heavy-pumpkin-lifting was outside her realm of expertise, Maura decided to stay back at the boarding house and perhaps get some reading done.

Though it wasn't her custom to start a book without finishing it as fast as possible, she had been unable to bring herself to return to _Treasure Island _since reading the invigorating first chapter to Jane. She had tried, and it made her feel strangely winsome. So she had gotten through another four chapters of _Little Women_ when she heard a soft knock at her door.

_Could that be Jane already? _she thought. Her heart was racing with anticipation but also nerves, slightly dreading this. Was she ready to face this woman?

She opened the door, and it was indeed Jane standing there, almost unrecognizably clean. Jane was wearing a loose-fitted black diamond back shirt with white embroidery on the collar and designs. Slung over her shoulders were a pair of steel-colored suspenders that hooked into riveted buttons of a high-waisted, dark brown pair of trousers. The pant legs covered what Maura assumed to be a new pair of black leather gaiters, which matched the belt she was wearing that had an ostentatious silver buckle. The clothes were all clean and pressed, and Jane herself looked remarkably well-scrubbed: no dirt, no stains, no bleeding little scratches. Maura noticed at once that this was also the cleanest she had ever seen Jane's hair, like it had actually been carefully washed. It was still a little wild, but significantly less tangled, and it looked much glossier than Maura would have expected.

Judging by Jane's body language, she was very nervous. She held her hat behind her back with both hands, and was on the verge of rocking on the balls of her feet. Behind her tightly closed lips, her teeth were clenched to prevent herself from begging Maura to let her inside.

Surveying her a moment longer, Maura wordlessly opened the door wide enough for Jane to walk in, and after she had done so, Maura closed the door behind her. Though she had initially believed she never wanted to be alone with Jane again, Maura felt herself overcome with the feeling that she did not have to worry. Jane would not harm her. Unfortunately there was no protocol for this type of situation, as far as Maura knew, so she didn't know which of them ought to instigate the conversation. Jane had started pacing in front of the bed, and Maura sat herself down on the chair by the desk.

"Please don't," Jane blurted out, and hearing that voice directed at her sent a thrilling sensation down Maura's spine. "Please don't sit down."

"Why not?" Maura asked coolly. "Do you not plan on staying long?"

"No, I…I…" Jane stopped pacing and looked down at Maura. She swallowed hard and got down on her knees. "I don't deserve to be above you. I don't want you should have to look up at me."

"Bring over that chair then," Maura said, nodding towards the window.

Jane silently got to her feet and obligingly picked up the chair, bringing it over and setting it a few feet from Maura's. She lay her hat in her lap, clenching her gloved fists by her knees (the gloves also appeared new, Maura noticed). It was a long time before Jane got the nerve to speak, and when she did, she kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.

"Maura, I gotta be honest with ya—I wrote that note to ya hopin' it might make ya want to see me." She glanced nervously up at Maura but looked away again so fast, it was mostly a useless move. "I ain't askin' ya to forgive what I done. I shouldn't have let ya stay when I was that way. Drunk, I mean. I had no business lettin' Tommy get me drunk. I shoulda trusted that you could take care of me, that you could fix the pain." She snorted in disgust. "Pain. I been in worse pain than this—'course, drinkin' is always what made me felt better, but those times, Frost was the only one around. Not refined ladies like you. I hate what I done to ya, Maura. And I don't—I mean I hope you know that I… _I _know it ain't as easy as just sayin' I'm sorry I done it, 'cause that ain't enough. There ain't words been invented to say how I feel."

"You made some pretty wild accusations."

"I know," Jane said thickly.

"You did some very unbecoming things."

"I know." Jane had nearly left already just at the sight of Maura's slightly reddened wrists (Maura had taken off her gloves to read). The marks were mostly faded by now, but the faint remnants remained visible against her otherwise perfectly porcelain skin.

"And I don't know what to excuse because of your inebriated state, and what I should take to heart." She added softly, "I just want to understand."

"I was outta line," Jane said grimly, hunching over and finally looking up at Maura again. "All I wanted was to—gosh, Maura, I mean I know Garrett Fairfield ain't a bad man. I just saw ya and thought of how soft you are, how fragile. Like a flower. You probably ain't accustomed to being around the sort of men we got in the Creek sometimes." She unconsciously rubbed her hands together. "Remember when we come back from Green Forge, after getting your horse those new shoes? You told me… you said there weren't nothin' I could say I'd been through that would turn you away, that'd frighten ya."

_That's true, I did say that_…

"Maura, I can't tell ya everything," Jane said in a level voice. "I just want you should be safe. I don't know what it is about you, but I just want you to be sure you're in good hands, but that you can do your best to take care of yourself if you have to. I didn't want …I didn't want to frighten ya." Her speech cut off sharply, and Maura realized that Jane was tearing up. It was hard to notice at first because Jane had nervously reverted her gaze to the floor, but a shuddering breath clued Maura in, and she could hear more than see the tears that were starting to fall from Jane's eyes. She tried to hand her a handkerchief, but Jane just shook her head, letting the tears fall. "I wish more'n anything I could take it back, Maura. I hate myself for doin' that to you." She inhaled shakily again, resting her face in her hand. "I _hate _myself for it."

Maura had no idea what to say. Being so loquacious, she rarely found herself at a loss for words, but this was a glaring exception.

"I ain't ever gonna let it happen again," Jane choked. "I ain't ever gonna drink like that again, unless I'm alone or it's just me and Frost out on the range alone. Maura, I don't know how to say this, but you make me wanna be a better person. I don't know how ya do it, you just do. I see your life and the way ya treat people and I think …I dunno, I think I been missin' out. I want to do right by you because I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I don't know, I…" _I want you to think __I'm__ amazing, too. _"I just want your respect. I realize I've lost it. I gambled it away when I drank so much."

"All women are gamblers," Maura finally said, remembering something her mother used to say all the time. "Otherwise, they'd never get married."

It was a weary joke, but it at least got a rueful chuckle out of Jane. She chanced another look at Maura, longer this time, and did not see the revulsion and hate she had expected to. Wiping her tears with her sleeve, she sat up a little straighter. "I'll tell you something, Maura."

The announcement hung palpably in the air between them, and Maura waited anxiously. The trouble was that Jane didn't know exactly what to say. She was torn between wanting to tell Maura everything about what her parents' murderer had done—every detail—and wanting never to share it with such a delicate person. She was terrified of Maura diagnosing her as permanently damaged goods, scarred beyond hope. She was scared Maura wouldn't want to associate herself with someone who was herself tied inextricably to such a disgusting person. Words weren't coming to her, but Maura was looking at her expectantly. _Open your mouth, Rizzoli._

But she couldn't. Keeping her eyes fixed determinedly on Maura's, Jane slid off one glove, then the other.

Maura felt her mouth involuntarily fall open with a small gasp. Jane held out both her hands, flipping them over to show the scars on both sides. She watched closely, carefully, as Maura's eyes stared in stung disbelief at what she was seeing. Jane could see the narrative unfolding itself in front of Maura as she pictured what must have happened. Unmistakably, someone had driven some sharp object through Jane's palms and punctured them clean through. It was remarkable that Jane could still use her hands at all.

The mere solicitousness in Maura's gaze gave Jane the courage to speak again: "That was done by the man who killed my father. If it weren't for Korsak, I'd've been killed when I was fourteen. But he came and saved me. Saved my life, and saved other things, too …but I didn't ever tell him …I didn't tell him what that man said. When Korsak showed up, this guy threw his knife at him before pulling a gun and running away. I thought he was just gonna shoot me instead of having his way with me first. But he didn't. He just looked at me with those black, demon eyes of his and said 'Janie, this ain't over.'"

"Jane…"

"You know, I always thought that meant he was gonna come back for me," Jane muttered. "That's part of the reason I kept leavin'. I didn't want to bring him back here. But I finally figured maybe that wasn't what he meant. I think he knew I was gonna chase him down. So he's right. It ain't over, and I don't think it ever will be unless I ever find him. I had nightmares for years, almost the same one. I'd just be in town—Angela's, Adelaide's, walkin' down the street—and every time I turned to look over my shoulder, he was right there. Grinning at me, grabbing at me. When I got older, the dreams didn't come so much, but when they did, I got violent." She started kneading her hands again, and her voice lowered. "And I liked it, Maura. I'd wake up wishing I had really done it. That's when I decided I didn't want to wait around for him to come back. _I _was gonna go find him and end it." She inhaled sharply. "Ain't been workin' out very well. I just hoped—I just wanted so bad to stop him. If I could keep him from harming just one more person, I'd consider my life not wasted. I'd know it wasn't in vain, what he done to me and my dad. My family. I don't say this to make ya feel sorry for me; I just wanna explain. I been through hell, Maura, if you'll excuse my sayin' it. I don't want ya to ever have to face anythin' close to what I did and not have any idea what to do about it. I wasn't prepared. Now I'm prepared. If I had to meet him again, if I could go back—I'd be ready."

"Jane, I don't…" Maura didn't know where to look, whether to keep her eyes on Jane's scarred hands or meet the woman's sorrowful gaze. She ultimately settled on the latter and whispered, "How do you keep going?"

Jane looked thoughtfully at one of her hands, flexing her fingers as she considered the question. "I think sometimes it'd be easier just givin' up. Once or twice I even thought about throwin' myself in front of a train, 'cause that'd sure be a way to go, wouldn't it?" (Maura did not look amused.) "But I always come back in to myself and I really think about it. There's too much good out there. Too much adventure. Too many people who ain't anything like this man. Too many animals to keep your spirits up." She shrugged. "And I figured, I dunno. Especially when I got people like Frost and Angela and my brothers—and Korsak—backin' me up, life is worth it. Life is worth the scary parts."

Maura reached over and took one of Jane's hands between her own, which were also bare. This full-on, skin-to-skin contact made Jane draw breath and her heart skipped a beat. A similar shock manifested itself in Maura, but she forced herself to remain steady as she gripped Jane's hand, gently massaging the scarred skin.

"You have me, too," she said in a thick voice. "Jane, you have me, too."

Jane's heart went from feeling like it wasn't beating at all to racing towards it way to tattooing a permanent mark on her chest. She felt dizzy. "Maura?"

In utmost seriousness, Maura said, "Don't ever drink that way around me again, and you will never have to worry about losing me again. I know you would never consciously do anything to hurt me, and even when you were … not quite yourself, you still were thinking of me. And if you meant what you said about going after the man who stole Garrett's money—you risked your life for my happiness."

"It was nothin'," Jane said with a shrug. "I seen scarier guys than that."

"All the same, I appreciate the gesture."

"Don't excuse the fact that I was an ass to you later."

"That's true, you _were _a…"

Jane looked up, amused at Maura's hesitancy, her attempt to come up with a more appropriate word and failing. "Come on," she said with a smirk. "Go ahead and say it, Maura. No other word will do."

"All right," Maura said, sitting straight and trying to sound as dignified as possible. She drew her hands back onto her own lap, folding them daintily. "You were a complete …"

"Say it!"

"_Ass!_" They both burst out laughing, Maura putting a hand to her mouth and turning red. "Ass! You were an ass!"

"Good Lord, Maura, don't go crazy!"

It took quite some time for them to calm back down, and while Jane was still chuckling, Maura said, "Wind Whistler loves her new shoes, by the way. And Bass adores the crate. I love both and everything else. Thank you."

"No need to thank me," Jane said seriously, though she was still smiling lightly. She couldn't believe Maura was being so gracious; it felt as though a boulder had been lifted off her shoulders. "I reckon it's gonna take a mighty long time to atone for what I done, at least in my eyes. So you can get used to it."

"Lovely."

"Anyway…" Jane casually put her gloves back on and took her hat in hand as she stood up. "I oughtta be gettin' back. I promised Ma I'd let her and Adelaide find an old dress and put it on me for Stanley's party."

"You aren't going like that?" Maura asked in surprise, also standing up. "I assumed that's why you were so nicely dressed."

"Yes, well, Frost's got a saying for what happens when you assume," Jane said with a smirk. "It makes an _ass _out of you and me."

Maura blushed again, but couldn't help laughing. "Oh my, that's clever!"

"Besides," Jane said, opening the door and preparing to walk out. "You think I'd dress this nice for Stanley?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for your patience and understanding regarding this part of the story. Hope that reconciliation was all right. Also, yes, I think a sequel may eventually be in order.


	25. An Attitude of Gratitude

Thanksgiving day of 1884 was a landmark occasion in the lives of Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles, marking a first and last for both of them: it was the first time in Jane's adult life that she had allowed herself to be seen in public in a dress, and for many reasons, she decided that no matter how much Angela begged or Adelaide encouraged, neither would ever talk her into doing it again. Meanwhile, Stanley's party became the first place Maura ever got what the Rizzoli boys might have referred to as "piss-ass drunk," and again for a sundry bunch of reasons, it was also the last time such an incident ever came even close to occurring.

Normally the more upper-crust women of Hollow Creek would have turned up their noses at the thought of alcohol being served at a public, family party, but as it was a holiday (and celebrated the departure of someone they considered to be one of the town's more regrettable elements), they decided to allow it. Besides, if Calamity Jane Rizzoli was going to this function in a dress, they could stand to make an exception as well.

The party started off normally enough. Garrett and Maura had arrived exactly on time, as Garrett decidedly believed in precise punctuality, and furthermore, he said he was curious to get a good luck at the interior of Stanley's place before it got too crowded (with drunk people, no less). As he and some of the other gentlemen who had never been inside the tavern strolled about discussing the architecture and how much it would have cost to insure, Maura found herself surrounded by several of the child patients she had treated. Children _loved _Dr. Isles for her patience, her sweetness, and especially her ability to comfort them before even the most minor of operations. Adelaide arrived shortly thereafter with her son and his small family, and she quickly made introductions.

"Maura, wait until you see what Angela and I did to Jane!" Adelaide nearly cackled (Angela was already there as well, helping to set out food). "She's practically transformed! I wouldn't be surprised if you failed to recognize her."

That could have very much been a possibility if Maura hadn't already seen Jane that day with her hair and skin already nicely cleaned. Nonetheless she appreciated the truth in Adelaide's assertion, and was far from being the only one who took notice when the Rizzoli siblings walked into Stanley's tavern twenty minutes later.

Jane was flanked by her brothers, both of whom were dressed in their Sunday best: pinstriped trousers and vests (Tommy in black, Frankie in brown), with newly pressed, round-collared white shirts. They were both wearing spurs, having just returned from Green Forge where Frankie had bought a respectable-looking new derby (which he was now tossing onto a rack by the door) and Tommy had spent a large sum on some dandy cuff links. After many lengthy lessons from Angela, Frankie had finally learned how to properly do a cross-tie around his neck, but Tommy had given up and left his collar bare. Somewhat remarkably, Tommy had even brought himself to shave, ridding his face of the stubble he had been convinced made him look more manly and intimidating.

They attracted plenty of attention and rightfully so, but Maura had eyes only for their sister. She reasoned to herself that this was because she already had quite a dapper fiancé on her arm who would most likely frown upon her ogling other men—so really her only option was to be utterly blown away by what Adelaide had very rightly described as Jane's transformation.

Jane's dark eyes stood out thanks to the faux eyeliner she had again applied, and the women had unanimously decided not to do anything more, because everybody knew only prostitutes wore full makeup. Her midnight black hair had been slicked carefully down on top, bunched into elegant curls just below the nape of her neck—around which was wrapped a white silk neckerchief Adelaide had intended to give to her daughter-in-law but frankly believed suited Jane better (and upon seeing the end result, said daughter-in-law kindly agreed). Jane's scarred palms and much-weathered forearms were covered by black satin elbow-length gloves, which she had to admit she liked quite a bit. At least, she liked them more than the black brocade belt Angela had attacked her with at the last minute. Though she had never worn a corset in her life, the restrictive tightness of the belt was the only thing she felt she could compare it to. The dress itself was fashioned from a dark red taffeta which—though it was quite modest—would have been considered wildly scandalous for an unmarried woman to wear in decent society based solely on the boldness of its color. Fortunately, Hollow Creek was ahead of the curve and found no problem with the audacious hue of Jane's dress (the men didn't, anyway). The sleeves weren't very long, and to protect the uncovered parts of her arms from the cold breeze on the walk over, Angela had insisted Jane wear some type of shawl. It so happened that Adelaide had a black wool capelet that fit Jane very nicely, tied at the front with a black silk bow that Jane was currently attempting to undo.

One of her brothers might have helped her with the endeavor, but after walking inside, they had both instantly parted to engage in some company with women who weren't their sister. Adelaide looked on pityingly as she watched Jane struggle inexplicably with the simple bow, and was about to go help when she noticed Maura approaching Jane, moving as if she were floating. _Hm. Perhaps this one ought to be left to the doctor_.

Seeing Maura walk towards her, Jane could feel heat rising to her cheeks—it was humiliating enough to be caught unable to do something as basic as untying a bow, but even more awkward when someone like Maura was the one witnessing it. Jane attributed her blush and her quickened heartbeat to this embarrassment, not even allowing the idea to pass through her mind that it might have more to do with the fact that Maura looked even more gorgeous than usual. The dark green of her dress brought out that color in her hazel eyes, accenting their mischievousness. The dress also lacked the more formal elements that were typically included in Maura's outfits, such as lace trimming or heavy embroidery. It was modest yet still flattered her figure, with nothing to distract the eye from noting the shapely form beneath it. A simple black ribbon was tied around her neck, forming a makeshift choker which Jane thought looked incredible but very uncomfortable.

"Hey," she said breathlessly once Maura was within hearing distance.

"Jane, you look _beautiful_," Maura gushed. "Absolutely stunning!"

"Oh—uh—do I?" Jane chuckled nervously, dropping her hands uselessly to her sides. "I don't, uh… _you_ look uh—amazing. Well, I mean, you always do, though. You're beautiful. I just clean up nice sometimes, I guess."

"You clean up _very _nicely," Maura said, bringing her white-lace gloved hands to the silk bow of Jane's capelet. "_This _is absolutely gorgeous. Where did you get it?"

It took Jane a moment to answer. The visual of Maura untying something for her brought up too many memories of women in this position when Jane was in disguise as Jake—the too-helpful maids, the eager waitresses, drunk showgirls, all keen to help Jake Wyatt off with his coat or his tie or anything they could get their hands on. Most recently, Jane thought of that barmaid Scarlett who had so resembled Maura and kissed her neck, but she fought to bring her head back in enough time to say, "Uh—Adelaide. Adelaide gave it to me. Or leant it to me, anyway. She'll probably want it back."

"I may have to buy it from her," Maura said with a wide smile, delicately taking the garment off Jane's shoulders and hanging it on a peg by the door.

"Yeah, it'd look better on you," Jane murmured, wishing she had pockets to stuff her hands into.

"Oh Jane, you flatter me. Come sit with us!"

"Us?"

"With me and Garrett, yes. Well, at the moment he's still surveying the tavern, but he'll be back shortly, and dinner ought to be done by then."

She thoughtlessly hooked her arm through Jane's and started walking her in the direction of her table. Jane stumbled at first, and not just because she was in heeled boots. This was an incredibly friendly move for Maura to have made, and the heat that had just started seeping out of Jane's cheeks came back with a vengeance at this close contact. Jane felt oddly stiff as they walked, not knowing what to do with the arm Maura had grabbed, and she wound up sort of stiffly holding it flat against her stomach. Maura was surprised she hadn't done this with Jane before, as it had been fairly customary to link arms with her girlfriends back in Boston. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that this was by far the most feminine she had ever seen Jane—even more so than the first night of their friendship—and it suddenly just seemed the natural thing to do to take her arm.

In a weird way, it felt like solidifying their familiarity with each other, at least on Maura's part. For Jane, the only thing that made it seem even more abnormal was when they reached the table, when before Maura slid her own arm free, she briefly grasped Jane's hand and squeezed it. Determined as Jane was to make up for her abhorrent behavior the other day, Maura was equally resolved to make sure Jane knew she was forgiven. This was a start.

Garrett came back a few moments later and sat on Maura's other side, professing not to have recognized Jane at first. She didn't know whether or not to be offended by this, but decided not to be, especially when Garrett would become only the first of many to bluntly state this opinion. Angela, having left to help prepare dinner before Jane's outfit and hair had been complete, very nearly burst into tears when she saw Jane in all her glorious femininity. Maura could only giggle as Jane, appearing alarmed by Angela's outburst of emotion, tried vainly to get her to calm down.

"Face it, sis," Tommy sighed, coming to sit on Jane's right with a beautiful girl on his arm. He clapped a hand roughly on her back (earning a scowl from Adelaide on the other side of the room, who could spot fabric-abuse a mile away). "Ain't nobody used to seeing you actually look like a woman."

"Shut up, Tommy," Jane muttered.

"Actually, Tommy, your sister possesses many feminine attributes that would point to her gender, despite her preference for masculine clothing," Maura piped up. "Perhaps you've noticed her exceptionally long eyelashes? The high cheekbones? The shape of her lips?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Believe it or not, I don't spend much time lookin' at Jane's mouth," he said, to the over-exaggerated amusement of the rather desperate girl on his arm.

"Well I don't—neither do I," Maura was quick to point out. "Not an inordinate amount of time, at least."

"What can you say?" Garrett laughed. "Maura's a doctor, she's bound to pick up on things like that."

"Yeah, don't be an ass, _young Thomas_," Jane mumbled into her glass of water.

"Young Thomas?" Maura asked with a grin.

"It's what the Father used to call him when he was a kid," Jane snickered, glad to have finally wiped the smirk off her brother's face. "You hated that, didn't you, Young Thomas?"

"Oh, I think it's cute!" Angela and Tommy's date said in unison, leaving young Thomas feeling quite conflicted and a little grossed out.

But then Angela bustled away (to ask anyone who might know anything about the girl Tommy had picked up), leaving those still congregated at the table to begin eating in peace. They were eventually joined by Dr. Byron and Frankie, the latter having been unable to procure a woman to come sit with him, which Tommy promptly teased him about. Frankie shut him up with a quick "Quiet, Young Thomas," and Jane decided to jump in before Tommy did something rash, like dump a bowl of pumpkin tureen on his brother's head.

"You know, I think you fellas are getting a little too girl crazy," she said. "Not just you two, but everybody. You've still got life to live, you know? Still got places to go, things to do. Fellas are gettin' to be so crazy these days, they'll do just about _any_thing to get married. A while ago, me and Frost was in Oregon, and this insane family of red-headed brothers—I think there were maybe seven of 'em—come down from the hills and just kidnap seven innocent women from the town to be their wives."

"Goodness, that certainly is desperate!" Maura gasped. "What happened?"

Jane shrugged. "The girls married 'em! Guess _they_ were desperate, too."

"I don't think it's so desperate," Tommy said. "Maybe they just fell in love. When you fall in love, you get married. Ain't you ever been in love, Jane? What're you now, forty?"

"That's funny, Young Thomas."

"Would you quit—"

"Say, where_ is_ Frost, anyway?" Jane asked, looking around. "He said he'd meet us here, didn't he?"

Frankie frowned. "Yeah, he did."

Jane glanced up and noticed that Stanley had been about to approach their table, only to veer away at the mention of Frost's name. Narrowing her eyes, she stood up and said, "Come on, Frankie." After a brief hesitation, he excused himself from the table and followed Jane through the throng of Thanksgiving partygoers. When they got outside, the fresh, cool air was such a relief that Jane didn't notice right away that Frost was sitting morosely on the front porch. "Frost? What're you doin' out here? Why ain't ya inside?"

Frost looked up at her and frowned. "Lots of people in there."

"You ain't afraid of crowds, Frost."

He shrugged, knowing it had been a weak excuse. "Stanley don't want me inside."

"Frankie?"

"I'm on it."

Frankie ducked back inside, and Frost quickly stood up. "Jane, you don't have t—"

"I don't have to what? Frost, you ain't a slave. You ain't a crook. There ain't nothin' wrong with you, nothin' what makes you different from everyone in there but the color of your skin, and that ain't somethin' you can help. This is supposed to be a _town _celebration."

"This ain't my town, Jane."

"The hell it isn't! Maybe you wasn't born here, Frost, but that don't mean ya—" She cut off sharply when Frankie re-emerged with Stanley forcibly behind him, his arm caught in the younger man's vice grip. "Stanley. You got a problem with my friend here?" Jane asked seriously. When Stanley didn't answer right away, Jane took a threatening step closer. "I asked you a question."

Frost tried in vain to get between Stanley and Jane. "Look, Jane, don't worry about it. He don't want me in there? Fine, I don't want to go in there."

"Then what were you doing sittin' on the porch here like a dog waitin' to be let inside?" Jane asked.

They were interrupted when their dependable Sheriff walked up just then, looking none too pleased at the goings-on. This was made evident not only by his expression but by his tone when he asked, "What the hell's goin' on here?"

"She was gonna beat me up," Stanley said. It would have been embarrassing had it been any other woman, but he knew his reputation could withstand being afraid of Calamity Jane, especially if it meant the Sheriff could get him it out of this tight spot.

"He ain't gonna let in Frost to celebrate with us," Jane said by way of explanation.

Korsak stepped up onto the porch, gently prying Jane's fingers away from the collar of Stanley's shirt. "Jane, you know the law. The proprietor of any given establishment is permitted to refuse service to anyone he sees fit. However," he added with a grand gesture, putting his arm around Frost, "Stanley is no longer the proprietor of this particular establishment. I am. And I say this place is good enough for our man Frost here. And that goes for Jorge as well, if he shows up. You got that, Stan?"

Merely grimacing at Korsak, Stanley muttered something incomprehensible and shuffled back inside. "You're the new proprietor here?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Not quite," said Korsak. "Angela's actually the one who wanted to buy it. She's always wanted this place, but could never afford it." He shrugged. "So I thought what the hell, I've got some money saved up, and it'd be nice for Angela to have enough room for a real kitchen, so she could serve food if she wanted to."

"Korsak, you're goin' soft, you know that?" Jane laughed, as Frankie laughed appreciatively and Frost gratefully shook his hand. "Of course, I reckon that means she'll expect us to help her get it up and running…"

"I certainly do," said Angela, appearing suddenly. She had inadvertently swung the saloon doors open so wide that one of them whacked Frankie into the outer wall, but she didn't seem to notice as she stepped forward to shake Korsak's hand. "And Sheriff, I appreciate what you done a whole lot. You won't be sorry you invested, I promise!"

"I've had enough of your cooking to know that I won't be sorry," Korsak chuckled.

"And I heard what you said to Stanley about Frost. I want you to know how much I appreciate the way you handled that," she said, glaring at Jane and Frankie. "None of this violent, intimidation stuff. Just words. Very smart. Now all of you come back inside and eat before the food gets cold!"

Korsak joined Angela at one of the smaller tables, where she immediately engaged him in speculating about the girl who was still laughing way too hard at Tommy's jokes. Frost walked back with Frankie and Jane to their table, where he was greeted politely by everyone, but Garrett was the only one warm enough to stand up and shake his hand.

"We were just indulging in a little Thanksgiving discussion," Maura explained. "You know, talking about things we're grateful for, besides the founding of our beautiful country."

"Yeah, and it was my turn, until you got here," Tommy said, nodding at Jane.

"Oh, does that mean I missed what you said?" Jane asked, ignoring Tommy and looking at Maura. "Would you mind repeating it?"

"I suppose not," Maura said, privately pleased that Jane cared enough to ask. "There are a great many things I am grateful for, and it's really quite difficult to narrow them all down. To start with, I might say how thankful I am for the industrial innovations we've come up with in the past few decades that have allowed me to travel by train from Boston to Arizona so quickly. I'm thankful for the mail carriers who have taken my letters to and from Hollow Creek, and the ships that have carried mail to my mother in Europe and back to me. So of course that should also go without saying, that I'm thankful for both of my parents and for Garrett's presence in my life. I'm also grateful for the education I have received since I was a child, medical and otherwise, that has allowed me to better myself, but more importantly, help others." She realized she was rambling, but it was hard to stop when Jane was so clearly invested in what she was saying, resting her chin on her palm and her elbow on the table as she stared almost dreamily at Maura, soaking up every word as she continued: "And you know, ever since I've been here, I've learned to become grateful for the beauty of nature. The skies, the trees, the water. Even animals I never paid much attention to before, like the power of a horse and its willingness to be directed by human hands. That's certainly something to be grateful for, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jane said softly, though the question had been rhetorical. "It sure is."

A short silence hung over the table before Tommy said, "Huh. That was a bit more in-depth than 'Mr. Fairfield, medical advancement and family,' which is what you said before."

"Yes, well, I had time to think more about it," Maura said, forcing her eyes away from Jane's and looking back down at her plate.

"Well now that Maura's recited the Gettysburg address," said Garrett, "how about you, Jane? What're you thankful for?"

"Gosh, I dunno," Jane said. "Everything. My brothers, Angela, Frost. This town, small though it may be. Thankful that Maura's willing to share that big brain of hers. And I—"

"_I'm _thankful for music!" Tommy loudly interrupted, as a small band had just started playing a very fast-paced number and couples were starting to head gaily out into the center of the tavern, which had been cleared for dancing. Tommy grabbed his girl's hand and rushed out, engaging her in what Jane had to admit was pretty impressive dancing.

Garrett wordlessly took Maura's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor as well, not realizing that she would have preferred to stay and listen to Jane finish. She threw an apologetic look at Jane over her shoulder, and the brunette merely smiled weakly and raised a hand to show it was all right. But as she watched Garrett and Maura dancing, laughing, smiling at each other, Jane felt that pained feeling well up in her chest again. It was because they seemed so carefree, she decided. Not a care in the world for those two. They would be married and raise beautiful, intelligent children. _There's not a future like that for me. I've missed my chance. Wasted it all. Wasted it chasing after a ghost_.

She was so lost in her depressing thoughts that it took her several moments to realize that Gabriel Dean was asking her to dance. If it had been anyone else, she would have felt bad using such a loud and brash tone to reject him, but considering it was Dean, she didn't really care. However, when Grant came by shortly after Dean had departed, Jane felt like she couldn't be so rude. He _was _the deputy, after all.

"I'm still hurtin' from that run-in I had with the other day," Jane said. "This number's a bit too vigorous, I think."

"Okay," Grant said amiably. "How about when a slower one comes up?"

"Er…all right," she squeaked.

He came back for her a few minutes later, and much though Jane had been dreading it, agreed to let him lead her in a dance. She felt bolstered slightly when Maura, still dancing nearby with Garrett, caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. Grant was a fairly smooth, very patient dancer, and was gentlemanly enough not to complain the few times Jane accidentally trod on his feet. The wound on her waist didn't bother her as much anymore (especially as Dr. Byron had been very good about keeping the bandages fresh), but the scar on her back could be sensitive to sudden movements. When the song ended, Jane was prepared to go sit back down—especially as Maura was doing so—but Angela and Korsak had just joined them on the dance floor, and Angela said the only way she had convinced Korsak to dance with her was if Jane agreed to at least one more with his deputy. Jane begrudgingly agreed, as she had started to suspect that Angela was getting quite keen on the Sheriff.

_About time she found someone_, Jane thought to herself, not realizing that Korsak and Angela were thinking the exact same thing about her.

Unfortunately for them, Jane really did beg off when this song was over. Garrett was deep in conversation with some other businessmen while Maura downed her sarsaparilla at an alarming rate. When her fiancé appeared too preoccupied to bother with his own glass of the same drink, Maura snuck his glass away from his setting and began to drink it, as well. Jane figured she was probably just thirsty from the exertion of dancing, and she realized she had never seen Maura quite like this: sweat glistened on her forehead and was starting to threaten her perfect hair, yet it did not look entirely unattractive. In fact it was strangely becoming in its own way. Her chest heaved deeply with her slightly-labored breathing, probably not helped by how quickly she was drinking.

"Where's the fire, there, Maura?" Jane finally asked when the woman had set down Garrett's glass.

"I don't know, but there's Jorge!" Maura said, pointing at a very handsome, dark-skinned fellow who was making his way towards them. "Hello!" she greeted with an enthusiastic wave when he got close enough. "Jorge, how are you feeling?"

"Very well, Dr. Isles, thank you!" he said in perfect English, bowing slightly. "I should be fine to set back on my travels whenever I wish, although I am finding myself feeling more and more drawn to your humble town." As he said this, his eyes went straight to Jane, who was surprised at her lack of annoyance towards this man. "If I may be so bold," he said, "You are by far the loveliest woman I have had the privilege of laying my eyes on tonight."

Deaf to the compliment, Jane waved her hand at Maura and said, "I don't know, have you seen Dr. Isles, here?"

Maura just laughed and gave Jane's shoulder a playful shove. "Don't be silly, Jane! Besides, Jorge knows I'm taken—and he couldn't do much better than you! Why don't you dance?"

"Would you like to?" Jorge asked, offering his arm to Jane.

With Maura insistently waving her on, Jane took Jorge's arm and allowed herself once again to be led to the dance floor. She failed to notice Maura reaching over for her mostly-full glass of water—or what had once been water, anyway. After Jane's staunch refusal to dance with him, Dean had taken the liberty of going back to her table when she was dancing with Grant. Unnoticed by everyone, he had pulled out a flask of whiskey and prepared to pour some in her glass, intending it to loosen her up a bit and be more open to his invitation later. The only problem was that he had forgotten where exactly at the table she had been sitting, so he had upped his odds by pouring some of the whiskey into five glasses near the general area where he had been sure she was in. What he could not have foreseen was that Maura would taste the whiskey in her own once-innocent drink and become instantly attracted to it. Never having had alcohol before, it didn't take long for her to get somewhat intoxicated.

Meanwhile, Jane was finding herself more intrigued by Jorge than she would have expected. He was genuine in his appraisal of her beauty, and as he had never seen her before, it came without smacking of condescension, like the remarks from the other men in town. When she offered to lead their second dance, he was more than happy and a little amused to let her do so, taking it in stride. They made for a clumsy pair, but Jane found herself appreciating that—he was a bit of a slouch when it came to dancing, too, and it put her at ease. She even found herself having fun. _Too bad you're leaving town soon_, she thought to herself as he smiled adorably at her.

To the general surprise of anyone who had been paying attention, Jane went through four dances straight with Jorge, before she felt utterly tired out. Her back actually didn't even hurt that much anymore, and she wasn't sure whether it was some sort of coping mechanism that would hurt a hell of a lot in the morning, or if it had just healed miraculously. Either way, she was distracted as soon as she and Jorge returned to the table, and Maura grabbed her arm.

"Jane," she said loudly enough to be heard over the music. "I was wondering if you could help me." In a stage whisper, she added, "Nature is calling, and as it's getting quite dark outside, I'd really appreciate your help in case a rattler jumps in the path all of a sudden!"

"Ah," Jane said slowly, aiding Maura in getting to her feet. "Would you excuse me, Jorge? We'll be right back."

Jorge politely stood as the women left together, grinning. Jane turned to look back at him before exiting the tavern, and in so doing, ran straight into Maura, who had stopped just outside. "Ow!" Jane groaned, rubbing the spot on her face that had been smashed into Maura's upraised hand. Why had they stopped? "I _thought _you needed to relieve yourself!"

"That was a ruse," Maura said, waving her hand impatiently at Jane's lack of perception. "So? What do you think of him?"

"Of who?"

"Jorge!"

"He's handsome," Jane had to admit. "But I…" The wind changed, and she got a distinct whiff of Maura's breath when the woman laughed excitedly. Maybe a little _too _excitedly. "Maura…?"

"What?"

"Are you…have you been _drinking?_"

"Of course! You saw me! I don't know _what _Stanley puts in his sarsaparilla, but my goodness! It is delicious! I may have had more than one glass, actually. The strange thing is that it tasted much better _after _dinner. Not sure why that is. I'm sorry I drank yours, Jane, but you weren't using it! And it was so good!"

"Oh boy," Jane sighed. "Maura, I was drinking water."

"Oh. Oh! Well! Stanley's water is good, too! How unfortunate that he's moving all the way to Green Forge. We may have to go visit him from time to time for some of his water!"

"Look—Maura, stay right here, okay? Don't move. Promise?"

"I'm Maura Isles."

"I—yes, I know that."

"Maura Isles does not break promises. So no. I won't."

"You won't move?"

"Correct. I won't move from this spot until you return."

"Great. Thank you." Jane hurried back inside and was immediately apprehended by Adelaide. "Oh, hey, Addie."

"Hello, Jane! Your dress seems to be holding up nicely." Before Jane could respond, Adelaide said, "I couldn't help noticing you escorted Dr. Isles outside. Is everything all right?"

After a quick debate about whether or not she should be honest, Jane said, "Not quite. I think somebody slipped a little hair of the dog into her drink."

"Oh dear, what a shame. Why don't you take her home?"

"Me?" Jane asked dumbly. "No, I was just gonna get Mr. Fairfield and ask _him_ to do it."

Adelaide smacked her on the head (with her hand, as she was wearing a formal dress with no place for hiding rulers). "Don't be a fool, Jane! How do you think Garrett Fairfield would react to seeing a tipsy Maura Isles?"

"Hm…that's a really good point."

"Of course it is. Besides, he's obviously busy right now," she said, indicating Garrett and the cluster of townsmen who were eagerly asking him for financial advice. "If you like, you can take Dr. Isles home now and I will wait for an opportune moment to get Mr. Fairfield's attention. I will explain to him that Maura wasn't feeling well, and that you volunteered to take her home. No doubt he'll feel guilty about her leaving without his knowing about it, but I'll make sure to tell him something—I don't know, that she got violently sick and would be embarrassed to be seen by him."

"Thanks, Adelaide," Jane said, patting the old woman on the shoulder. "You're a trump." As soon as Jane got back outside, it was to see that Maura was sitting on one of the porch chairs, crying into a makeshift handkerchief (which Jane quickly realized where actually the woman's gloves). "Maura! Maura, what is it? Are you all right?"

"_No!_" Maura sobbed, and Jane concernedly dragged another chair forward to sit close to her. "It's Thanksgiving! It's Thanksgiving and I'm not with my father, because my father is dead! He's _dead_, Jane! Do you know what that feels like?"

"Yes," Jane sighed, knowing that Maura already knew this but also knowing it wouldn't be prudent to remind her of that in her current state. "I know how it feels."

"It's awful!" Maura cried. "I hate it! I want to go home! I want to be with my father! I want him to be here, I don't like—I don't want—"

"Hey, hey," Jane said softly, leaning forward and pulling Maura into an embrace. "It's all right, Maura. Let it out."

"I don't w-want to let it out," Maura said, clutching Jane tightly to her. "I should be fine now, and I'm not! I don't want to cry about it, I want to be fixed!"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Jane said in the same quiet tone, rubbing Maura's back. "You hear me? Nothing. You can cry if you want to."

"But I _don't _want to!" Maura insisted, pulling back and looking at Jane through puffy, red eyes. She looked thoroughly exhausted, or perhaps just drunk. Either way, she appeared too tired to wipe away her own tears. She gave it a weak effort, passing her wrist beneath one eye before falling forward into Jane's arms again.

Jane reacted without thinking, turning her head slightly to catch a tear between her lips as it trailed down Maura's cheek. She felt Maura gasp and shudder beneath her, and the salty droplet hit Jane's tongue when she opened her mouth and pulled away, only to leave one more kiss on Maura's cheek, slightly closer to her eye this time. Her heart was pounding a hundred miles a minute when she fully pulled back, nervously surveying Maura's countenance. Maura was still crying lightly, but now her brow was furrowed in confusion, and that seemed to have overtaken her sadness. Her eyes were fixed on Jane's mouth, and after another moment, she reached forward and traced her bare fingers across Jane's lips. Jane felt the curious sensation of her breath catching, her chest seizing up, her brain seeming to shut off, all at once. The effects lingered even when Maura withdrew her fingers after merely a second or two.

"I want my tears back," she said quietly. "You shouldn't have to keep them, Jane. You have enough of your own."

"So do you," Jane said automatically, though she knew this was one of the stranger conversations she had ever had. "We all have too many. Maura, let me take you back to the boarding house, all right?"

"Yes!" Maura practically shouted, all signs of sadness abruptly gone. "That is a wonderful idea! Let's go, Jane, and I can take a bath! I'm so thankful for baths—did I mention that?"

"You didn't," Jane said, standing up and helping Maura to do the same. They had only walked off the porch when Jane realized Maura might have some trouble walking herself all the way back to the boarding house. She would probably need assistance, and Jane didn't think she'd be much up for helping in her current state of dress. "Maura, would you mind if we stopped by Angela's first? It's just across the road, here. She's got some of my clothes, and I'd like to change."

"Why?" Maura asked. "You look so beautiful. Like a… like a… painting."

Jane ignored this and merely led Maura to Angela's empty saloon, then up the stairs to the private room where Jane had stored her regular clothes.


	26. Sobriety or Impropriety

**A/N**: This was difficult to write. I don't think it veers out of T-rated territory, but just a heads-up anyway.

* * *

><p>When they had reached Angela's room, Jane pulled a chair over to the dresser and forcefully sat Maura down onto it. She anxiously asked Maura not to move, and not to look, either. Having already forgotten that they were there so Jane could change clothes, Maura didn't know what she was promising not to look at, but it didn't matter—as soon as Jane had turned towards the bed, Maura fell forward, her head banging loudly on the dresser. She hadn't blacked out; she just simply lacked the energy required to remain sitting up. Jane shook her head in disbelief as she yanked off her long gloves, vowing internally to somehow find out who was responsible for sneaking liquor into Maura's drink.<p>

After she had carefully laid the gloves over the headboard, Jane sat down on the edge of the bed to begin the long process of untying the laces on her boots. Occasionally she glanced up to make sure that Maura hadn't moved and wasn't staring at her, because the last thing she needed right now was to try and undress in front of Maura Isles. If Maura hadn't been so drunk and in danger of tripping down the outside flight of stairs, Jane might have let her wait there. One of them going down into the empty bar was the other option, but Jane didn't like that either—the saloon was only across the street from the party, where some of the men were already drunk, and it was more than likely that some of them might travel over here with some ladies for more privacy. _Louts. _

With the boots finally undone and removed, Jane started the arduous task of undoing her dress. It dawned on her that she had forgotten Adelaide's capelet at the party, but she figured she could go back for that later. Again she wished Maura were a little more sober, because it would have definitely helped to have someone assist her in getting this confusingly buttoned-and-tied garment off. _Why do women's clothes have to be so damn difficult? And people want to know why I dress in men's attire… it's simpler, damn it! _A long string of swear words flew through her mind as she awkwardly stood up and twisted around, contorting herself in an attempt to undo the few large buttons on the back of the dress. She only thanked God that Adelaide had agreed not to force her to wear a corset—which were going out of fashion anyway—even if the cost had come at having to wear a hoop skirt. At least _those _were straightforward, though. Jane was also glad the whip-wound on her back was feeling better, because she could only imagine what hell she'd be putting it through right now otherwise.

Her back was to Maura and she had nearly forgotten the woman was there, which accounted for her lack of hesitancy when she was finally able to free herself from the top half of the dress. Since injuring herself, Jane had failed to acquire a new undershirt, and the tailor hadn't had any in her size. While dressing Jane for Stanley's party, Adelaide had tried fitting a longer shirt on her, but it always showed, leaving her no choice but to allow Jane to go without it. Against Dr. Byron's advice, Jane had also removed the constricting bandage on her back, because she felt she no longer needed it (in the morning, her back would strongly disagree).

She gave herself a moment to breathe, to congratulate herself on getting this far alone. Facing the blank wall of Angela's room, Jane failed to notice how closely Maura was watching her. Maura had groggily lifted her head up, resting her chin on her arm to make it easier to breathe. In so doing, she caught sight of Jane in the mirror that was haphazardly hung over the desk. Somewhere in the back of her alcohol-stained mind, Maura knew it was indecent to stare, but she couldn't help it. In fact, more than being unable to help it, she was trying very consciously to focus her blurry vision, to soak in every precious detail the mirror was so helpfully giving her.

It was simple: Jane was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Months abroad in Europe, visiting the finest museums and sitting in on sessions with some of the world's most renowned artists. Numerous trips across the East Coast to various art exhibitions. Countless visits to the theater to see famous troupes, esteemed performers, great beauties. And there was nothing those people had offered in their work or their appearance that come close to rivaling the perfection of Jane's body.

As her eyes settled on the long, mostly-healed scar on Jane's back, Maura vaguely remembered seeing this back exposed a few days earlier, when she had applied the first bandage. But then it had been essentially still, moving only with Jane's light breathing. Here, now, was a different story. Jane sighed heavily, resting her hands on her hips and rolling her neck, unconsciously flexing her shoulders as she did so. Maura was mesmerized by the hard lines shifting and in turn bulging out as Jane thoughtlessly reached over and back to massage one tired shoulder blade. Her fingers laced briefly behind her neck, pushing it forward as she tried to decide whether or not to let her hair down. After untying the neckerchief she'd still had on, Jane chose to let her curls stay up—it brought refreshing coolness to a very warm body.

And still, she was unaware of Maura watching her. Having been raised the daughter of a well-meaning doctor and a brazen artist, Maura had grown up with a fair appreciation of the human body. She was constantly amazed at how flawlessly one could work and cohere when its parts were all operating in perfect harmony—such as Jane's arms sloping into her strong shoulders, which topped off a magnificently long back that curved down to a narrow waist. Her appraisal of the aesthetics of Jane's body would have been Maura's mother's doing, as she had been the one to insist to Maura's father that showing the girl nude statues was no more obscene than letting her inside a hospital. It was all about the appreciation of human anatomy. Jane was like a living, breathing statue.

It was getting too hard to keep her head up. Maura wanted to ask Jane if she'd mind turning around, but couldn't get very far. She only got to mumble "why," as in "why don't you turn around?" before her exhaustion got the best of her and she face-planted the dresser again. For her part, Jane had been so invested in getting undressed that she had actually forgotten Maura was there—so when she heard the moaned "why," it prompted a possibly uncalled-for shout of a very unladylike word. That was how Jane knew, without turning around, that Maura was out of it again. She was sure that even drunk, Maura would have objected to such language.

Jane quickly pulled off the dress and laid it carefully across Angela's cot before reaching for an old plaid shirt. Buttoning it up, she had to chuckle at the rather ridiculous image of her in this top with the hoopskirt still cinching her waist, and briefly toyed with the idea of just going outside that way. _Hm, nah_. Keeping a wary eye on Maura's collapsed figure, Jane undid the hoopskirt and placed it next to the dress. Under protest she had agreed to wear pantalets, not because Angela was scandalized at the thought of anything else, but because Jane grimly figured that if she danced, it would become pretty obvious to the men at the party that she was wasn't wearing anything at all beneath that lovely dress. The last thing she felt she needed was men ogling her.

For lack of a better option, Jane pulled her jeans on over the pantalets. She didn't care _how _unconscious Maura appeared; she had already caught her off guard once, and Jane didn't want it to happen again. It didn't matter that Maura looking would have been innocent (or so she figured); she did not like being surprised. After giving her feet a quick rub, she yanked on her trusty pair of snakeskin boots and pushed herself up off the bed.

"All right Maura, let's go," she said quietly, giving Maura's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Just five more minutes?" Maura groaned, turning her head away and keeping her eyes resolutely shut.

"No. Now."

To get things going, Jane pulled Maura up by the arm, eventually bringing it around her shoulder and, stooping, put her own arm around Maura's waist. She started walking them towards the door that led to the outside staircase, and it became increasingly apparent that getting Maura all the way to the boarding house was probably going to take a lot of effort. Jane briefly considered just leaving her in Angela's room (she was sure Angela wouldn't mind putting her up), but decided against this for two reasons: firstly, she wanted Maura to wake up somewhere familiar and somewhere nice; secondly, she didn't want anyone else in addition to Adelaide knowing about Maura's condition. She was sure Maura would want it that way.

"Where we going?" Maura mumbled when they got outside.

"Back to the boarding house," Jane answered patiently, trying to lead Maura as carefully down the stairs as possible.

"Oh! I live there."

"Yes, I know."

"I live there. I don't live with _Garrett _because we're—you know we're not married yet. Garrett always likes things a certain way, you know what I mean? He wants them the way he wants them the way he thinks they should be. Heaven forbid you disagree. Things and people have their place, and I have my place, and Bass has _his _place, and you—do you have a place, Jane?"

"I dunno."

"I think you do," Maura whispered, stopping on the stairs and jabbing her finger in the general area of Jane's heart, harder than she meant to. "It's there. Right there."

"Uh…yes," Jane said slowly, prying Maura's finger away. "You're absolutely right. Shall we keep going?"

Maura frowned. "I don't think that was water."

"What was water?"

"No, it _wasn't _water. What I drank. I think I drank something else."

"You know what, I think you may be right," Jane said, patting Maura on the shoulder. It was a bad move—Maura hadn't been prepared for the contact and stumbled forward. By grabbing the rickety railing, she managed not to fall over, but Jane dashed in front of her, ready to block the fall just in case. "Sorry! Are you all right?"

Maura sized her up, thinking. If she said she was all right, Jane would probably just escort her back to the boarding house. If not… "I think I hurt my foot."

"No wonder, in those heels you've got there," Jane observed, crouching down on the steps. "Do ya want me to take 'em off for ya? The boots?"

"Why?"

"To—I dunno, to look at your feet."

"You're not a doctor."

"True."

"But you're strong."

"Also true."

"Strong like a man."

"Uh…"

"If you were a man, I would never ask you this, but as you are in fact a woman, I have no qualms about asking you to carry me."

And then Maura basically attempted what could have been construed as sitting on someone's lap while they were still standing up: Jane's knees nearly gave out when Maura put her arms around Jane's neck and looked at her expectantly. With a heavy sigh, Jane bent down slightly to put her arm beneath Maura's knees, and when she lifted with her back, she thought for a terrifying moment that she might send them both hurtling down the stairs head-first. As luck would have it, she managed to keep it together, and the pain in her back subsided once more. At any rate, she was thankful they had been close to the bottom of the staircase; otherwise, it might have been difficult to maneuver.

"You're very good at this, you know," Maura said drowsily as they walked down the street. When this elicited no response, she tilted her head up to try and look Jane in the eye. "Do you do this often?"

"Do what? Carry people?"

"Carry women."

"Not often, no."

Satisfied with this answer, Maura snuggled in closer, ending with her forehead pushed up against the pulse point on Jane's neck. She waited a while before pointing out, "Your pulse is moving very fast. Do you know why that is?"

Jane swallowed hard and wondered if Maura could feel that, as well. "Because carrying you is tiring?"

"You think I'm tiring?"

"No, not _you_, just… never mind."

Jane thought she might very well have a heart attack when out of nowhere, Maura touched her lips again. She traced one finger delicately over to the side and said, "You have an adorable smile, did you know that? I adore it." Giving one of Jane's dimples a slight poke, she said, "I forget what these are called, but you have them, two of them. I like them both; I don't think I could pick a favorite one."

Pulling her head back slightly, Jane said, "Well, it's a good thing you don't have to, then."

"And what about this?" Maura asked, grazing her finger down to the cleft in Jane's chin. "How do you shave in there?"

"Shave?" Jane laughed. "I don't _have _to shave."

"Oh, that's right. Of course you don't! But how does _Jake _shave in there?"

"Jake doesn't have to shave, either. He just takes the beard off, and there you go."

"Well that's very clever of him! What's his secret?"

"What's _not _his secret?" Jane mumbled. She jerked her head back when Maura tried touching her face again. "Maura, could you not—?"

"What?"

"Don't do that!" Jane said, wishing she had a free hand to swat Maura's away. "It's very distracting!" They had reached the boarding house, and the guard Melody employed when she was away hastily opened the front door, recognizing Maura. Jane was grateful that he remained outside, as that would make it less likely for him to realize what state the doctor was in. "Ow!" she groaned when Maura inadvertently poked her in the eye. "Maura! Please. Stop!"

Maura just giggled and tightened her grip around Jane's neck. "No."

For the umpteenth time that night, Jane nearly tripped. She had reached the foot of the staircase without realizing it, and Maura let go of the fistful of garments she had been helpfully keeping out of Jane's way. Jane stood there for several long moments, trying to gauge what would be the best way to go about this. Holding Maura in this position, Jane could hardly see where she was going, which could be treacherous while trying to climb stairs. Furthermore, unless she could persuade Maura to hold her dress out of the way again, she might trip on it. She tried going up two steps sideways, but quickly gave up on that front—it was too awkward and exhausting.

_Well, looks like there's nothing else for it_.

Without warning, Jane dropped the arm that had been supporting Maura's legs and boosted the woman up and over her shoulder. As she had expected, Maura cried out in surprise, but Jane paid no attention as she shifted her own position, putting her right arm securely over Maura's lower back. Perhaps due to Maura's light weight, climbing up the stairs this way felt easier than Jane might have expected—at least for her. It was something of a different story for the inebriated woman dangling over her shoulder, unable to decide whether Jane's fast clip was helping or hurting. At least it was only one flight, and Maura's room was close to the stairs. Jane reached for the doorknob and twisted it easily open.

"Melody really oughtta invest in some locks," she muttered, depositing Maura on the edge of the bed. "That ain't safe."

Maura's response to this was to authoritatively say, "You're Jane."

"Y…yes, I am."

"Jane." Maura leaned forward and grabbed Jane by the collar of her shirt, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear: "Don't tell Jake this, but I think he's handsome. Very much so. But I'm a married woman—or I will be soon, anyway." Cackling in delight, she pushed Jane away, and Jane was so taken aback by both Maura's words and this abrupt action that she stumbled and fell back on the floor. This sent Maura into another fit of hysterics, rolling back onto her bed in near-insane laughter.

"You have lost it," Jane snorted, smiling despite herself as she got to her feet. "I think my work here is done."

Maura's laughter came to an immediate halt and she sat up. "No! Help me first, please?"

"Help you what?"

"The bath. I'm dirty. I have no water."

"Uh…right. I'll uh, I'll see what I can do about that. Just sit tight, okay?"

"Okay."

Jane hurried back out the door, hoping nothing too drastic would happen in her absence. She considered asking the night guard to bring up some water, but preferred he stayed at his post in case somebody actually came by. Potting around in back of the boarding house for a while, Jane finally found a well and figured it was for Melody's residents' use. So she rolled up her sleeves and got to work, just wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Seeing Maura like this was strangely off-putting and a little scary. She had thought if she ever saw Maura Isles drunk, it would be a laugh—and while parts of it were amusing, Jane recognized her own discomfort with the situation.

_It doesn't do for a lady like that to be so far gone_, she thought, yanking a filled bucket back up out of the well. _It's a disgrace. I never thought drinkin' was so bad, but seeing it on her, it don't seem right_.

There was a second bucket by the well, a bit larger, and Jane decided to fill it, too. Her back was really starting to hurt again, but she didn't care. It wasn't necessarily that pain meant nothing to her as much as she didn't mind physical pain if it came at the cost of someone else's happiness—especially Maura's. This was what she kept in mind as she hoisted the full-to-brimming buckets of water back to the boarding house, back up the stairs, and towards Maura's room. The rope handles burned her hands, and relief came to one as she set down a bucket to open the door.

The smell of vomit hit Jane's nostrils the second she opened the door, and she choked on reflex. Setting down the other bucket, she crossed over to the side of the bed, where Maura was lying on her stomach, apparently out of it at last. The tell-tale discolored blotch on the wood stank to high heaven, and Jane almost wondered if Maura was only pretending to be asleep out of ladylike embarrassment.

In case that was true (which it wasn't), Jane said, "Bass! That ain't very nice, goin' and getting sick all over your owner's floor, you know."

As Maura dozed, Jane went back for the buckets and filled the tub in case Maura woke up and wanted to use it later. Spotting two pristine towels on the dresser inside the bath-room, Jane picked up the smaller one and dunked it into the water she had just poured, wringing it out and walking back to the part of the floor where Maura had thrown up. Fortunately there wasn't much to clean, but Jane figured she'd have to replace the towel all the same. Once the floor looked relatively spotless again, she dumped the towel in one of the buckets, planning to throw it out once she went back outside.

Jane stood to go, but before she left, thought it might be nice for Maura to be a little more comfortable when she actually woke up. Pulling off her own boots, Jane knelt on the bed and turned Maura over onto her back. She waited to see if this would wake the woman up, but when it didn't, she felt a little more confident and unbuckling Maura's shoes and pulling them off, laying them carefully on the floor by the bed. With trembling fingers she undid the first few buttons of Maura's blouse to help her breathe easier, stopping short of revealing the top of a very flushed chest. Some of Maura's hair was stuck to her sweaty forehead, and Jane pushed it tenderly back.

She was overcome with the sudden desire to kiss Maura's forehead, but she decided quickly against it. What if Maura were to suddenly wake up and see somebody hovering over her? Jane was already pressing her luck. With that in mind, she rolled off the bed and stuffed her feet back into her boots. She picked up the buckets and opened the door, turning around only when she heard a soft "mmm" from the direction of the bed.

Maura had turned slightly on her side, a light smile subtly gracing her features. "Jake…"

Feeling oddly flushed, Jane took that as her cue to leave.

It was several hours before Maura woke up again in the middle of the night. It took her a minute or two to realize why she was in bed, but took much longer to try and piece together why she was still dressed and why she was having trouble remembering anything. Sitting up, she could smell her own sweat as well as feel it—feel it, and feel disgusted by it. The vague idea that she had planned on taking a bath entered her hazy mind, and she resolved to go see if by chance there was any water in her tub. Getting off the bed turned out to be more disorienting than she had anticipated, and she worried for a moment that she was going to retch, but she recovered relatively quickly. Still, it was a difficult stumbling journey over to the tub, and Maura could not for the life of her figure out why her head was pounding so much.

Clearly it was late (or…early?), but upon seeing that her tub was somehow miraculously filled, Maura just wanted to get inside it and become clean. She began the long process of undressing herself, of removing the many layers and stockings. If she had been in a fully sober state of mind, she would never have let her clothes simply fall on the floor, but she didn't feel like dealing with them any other way right now. This lack of concern both worried and excited her: she still couldn't pinpoint why her behavior had changed, but she was really enjoying the freedom that came with it.

Once she had stripped down completely (save for the ribbon around her neck), she stepped clumsily into the tub and, sinking down into the water, felt instantly soothed. Clothes were not entirely successful at keeping dust off the bodies in Hollow Creek, and Maura was always amazed by how much seeped onto her skin and into her hair. Having the luxury of a bath filled with relaxingly warm water was a feeling too wonderful to describe. And she knew it _was _a luxury, that she was very fortunate to have a tub—especially one this nicely sized—at all. She wondered how women out here got along without them.

This vague train of thought led specifically to Jane and wondering under what conditions she bathed. A spigot? A stream? A makeshift tub? One thing was certainly true: whether you sat in a tub or stood under a spigot, you had to undress completely. She pictured in hazy detail Jane shrugging off her buck-skin, fringed vest, letting it fall and pool around her boots. Course fingers would meet to undo the seven or eight buttons which held together a loosely-fitting plaid shirt, but before she took it off, she would lean against the wall or a tree to steady herself as she pulled off her dust-covered, snakeskin boots: first the left one, then the right. She'd toss them anywhere; tidiness be damned. Straightening once more, she would let her loosened shirt fall to the ground.

Maura's eyes were already closed, but she shut them tighter and felt her breath hitch.

She imagined Jane's chest would be relatively small, which would be fitting for her slender body type. Her abdominal area was sculpted as sharply and precisely as the planes on her face and her back. Jane would unbuckle her holster and lay it carefully on the ground before tugging at the waistband of her corduroy pants. She would step out of them and then, fully undressed, go under the trickling spigot.

That's when Maura felt it, the utterly unfamiliar sensation she knew she had never experienced before. Though fully emerged in lukewarm water, a dull heat had risen between her legs. Her visions of Jane came to a halt as she realized that something down there was definitely throbbing. For several moments, she was startled—what was going on?

She hesitated, then cautiously slid her hand down past her stomach to the dully thrumming region. She pressed two fingers against the area and gasped softly at the feeling it produced. The image of Jane's wet skin entered her cloudy mind once again, and Maura could swear her heart contracted from nerves. She couldn't contain a quiet moan, stroking with a bit more pressure as in her mind's eye, Jane turned to look at her and grinned—Maura's breaths were now coming only in short, aggravated bursts. Her eyes opened briefly before her body relaxed and lay her head back; as if of its own accord, her leg hiked up to rest on the lip of the tub as the heat increased, spreading deeper—but it no longer panicked her, at least not for the moment. It was too excitingly new and enlivening.

In less than a minute she had utterly collapsed: there must have been a nerve she pressed or something, but she'd definitely felt some kind of sensation-heavy climax when she had allowed herself to imagine Jane with her in the water. Maura's leg came splashing back down into the tub, and that's when she was struck by the enormity of what she had just done.

_What…the __hell__?_

Obviously, something very intense had just happened—something so intense, she didn't even feel the need to chastise herself for swearing internally. Her heart was racing furiously, and she realized she was still wearing the choker. With no patience for decorum, she tore it off her neck and threw it onto her pile of dirty clothes, still trying to calm herself down. But it was no use: her head was spinning, her heart felt ready to burst out of her chest, and she felt nauseous. She worried she might really be sick, but had no idea what kind of illness had struck her. These combined symptoms were entirely foreign to her, and she wondered briefly if something had happened to make her lose her mind. Maybe that was why she had just imagined that extremely intimate scenario with Jane.

She was friends with Jane, she admired her fierceness, her independence, her wit. A fire had just been lit to that friendship, and Maura worried about how this experience might change it. Guilt washed over her as she realized she had never had a similar experience fantasizing about Garrett. But why should she feel guilty? She had just been trying to keep a pure mind—a truly refined lady never had such imaginings. Such deviant dreaming was for dirty people who didn't care about class—for scamps, like Calamity Jane—

Maura instantly wondered if Jane had ever felt this way about her.

_NO! Don't think about it!_

But she had to; she couldn't just ignore what had happened. She had spent her adult lifetime refusing to allow herself anything but the most chaste of fantasies: marrying Garrett was her ultimate goal, and it had never even occurred to her to picture anything more than his bright eyes and beautiful smile. Not once in her life had she had an impure thought, yet Jane had beaten down the door of her unconscious, and Maura realized she had just had her first vaguely sexual experience —and it had involved a woman.

_Perhaps it's not so unusual_, she thought desperately to herself. She was obviously more familiar with female anatomy; perhaps that was how women discovered what it was they liked. It still felt unsettling, though. Was it a fluke? Did it have to do with the fact that Jane was so masculine? That she had been convincingly disguised as a man the first time Maura had seen her, and that Maura had found that man incredibly attractive?

_Yes, that must be it! Jane's practically a man anyway, by her own admission! _

To try and solve this problem, Maura allowed herself to do an experiment after she had gotten ready for bed. It felt like an awful thing, but it needed to be done, just to bring her some peace. She closed her eyes and conjured up an image of Garrett in bed beside her, kissing her slowly. She had stolen enough looks at her father's anatomy books and seen enough statues in Europe to be able to imagine pretty well what Garrett would look like underneath his clothes. Taking into consideration his physique, she figured he would probably be quite well-endowed and his touch would be strong. She felt her heartbeat quicken and a blush light her cheeks.

All right, then. She could be aroused by Garrett.

Or, wait. Was she blushing and trying to calm her heart because she was embarrassed? Because she felt guilty (as she should) for having consciously designed with these images? Jane had come upon her out of nowhere, and—

Oh, sweet Lord. Maura pictured Jake Wyatt climbing into bed with her, but he would remove his hat and mustache and unbutton his vest a little, and reveal himself to be Jane. Jane would be dominant and possessive in bed, the same way she owned a room whenever she entered it; hell, the same way she owned the outdoors whenever she saddled up or just walked down a street. The throbbing was back, and Maura bit her lip, trying valiantly to resist the urge to let her fingers return there.

She turned onto her stomach, but that didn't help. She only realized that she was crying when the tears, induced by stress and frustration, had slipped into her mouth and the salty taste betrayed them. Her breathing was shortened again as she screwed her eyes shut and tried to force her mind blank, waiting for the sensation to pass. After a few tortuous moments, pass it did.

That meant her experience in the tub had to have been a fluke. It had to be. It was. She refused to entertain the notion that it might have been anything else. Whatever was making her feel so sick to her stomach, whatever was causing her head to feel ready to split open, whatever was making her see double every now and then—that was what had brought on this fantasy about Jake Wyatt. And it_ was _about Jake, as far as Maura was concerned. Not Calamity Jane.

Sleep came faster than her troubled mind could have anticipated. It was a dreamless slumber, as though her subconscious was aware of how much her imagination had gone wild tonight and wanted to give her a break. If there was anything Maura needed, it was a break. She had no idea how to recover from all this, but what really frightened her was the thought that maybe she didn't want to recover at all.


	27. I Can't Get Started

**A/N**: Thank you so much to all you wonderful people who understood my intent in that last chapter. It was hard, but this was harder. Hope I don't let y'all down.

* * *

><p>When Maura woke up, the sunlight was streaming into her room so brightly that she knew instinctively it was far past early morning. Normally she got up no later than eight o'clock, and had lately been asking Melody to come in and wake her if she wasn't at breakfast by nine. But it must have been long past nine now, and Melody hadn't knocked… <em>unless I slept through it<em>. That was certainly a possibility.

With great care, Maura groaned and sat up slowly. Every movement, no matter how minute, sent a throbbing pain up from her stomach to her head, which felt as though it weighed about ninety pounds. Actually, her whole body felt that way: her arms were lead, her stomach was brick, her head was an anvil. Rather inconveniently, though, her neck felt about as strong and useful as a piece of raw dough. With a moan and great difficulty, she put her hands behind her neck, lacing her fingers together. She closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning as she rolled her head, trying to get the cricks out of her neck and shoulders.

All she wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of the day, if not the rest of her life. But she knew she had to get up; she should've been up possibly hours ago! The holiday was over, and Dr. Byron would be needing her assistance. Though every fiber of her body protested, Maura moved to shift her legs over the side of the bed—her legs that felt as though they were made of iron. Argh…

She sat like that for several moments before allowing her bare feet to touch the floor. But she pushed off the bed much faster and harder than she had intended to, with the definite unintended result that she stumbled and fell onto the floor with a loud crash. Before she could begin to figure out exactly how to get back to her feet, the door to her room opened and somebody had taken her carefully by the arms and lifted her back up.

"Jane?" Maura groaned once she saw that it was indeed the tall brunette who had pulled her to her feet and was leading her gently back onto the bed.

"Good morning!" Jane said brightly.

"Is it still morning?"

"Yes, it's nearly half past ten."

Maura tried to fight, to get up even as Jane was attempting to cover her with the duvet. "Half past ten? I need to get up, I need to go out—"

"No, you don't," Jane said simply but forcefully, pressing her hand against Maura's chest to try and push her back down.

"But I—"

"No."

"Jane, I have to work!"

Jane sat on the edge of the bed by Maura's legs, and if Maura's reflexes had been working properly, she would have yanked her legs up to her chest. "Okay, Maura. You're a doctor. You tell me. Tell me how ya feel. Do you feel up to snuff? Everything functioning properly? If ya think you can get up right now and go about your everyday duties at full capacity because you feel _fine_, then I will let you go. Because you are a doctor. So I trust you to know when ya feel good, and when you should rest." She resolutely folded her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

With a defeated sigh, Maura laid back on her many pillows. Jane knew she couldn't lie. "I feel as though I've been hit over the head with a mallet. Repeatedly."

Jane chuckled sympathetically. "Yeah, it's gonna hurt a bit, I reckon. Not sure how much you drank last night, but considering it was your first taste…"

"So I _did _drink?" Maura asked ruefully. "I don't remember drinking…"

"Well, my guess is that you didn't mean to," Jane said. "I think someone poured liquor into your sarsaparilla. And possibly my water, which you also drank."

"Oh, I feel _awful_," Maura moaned.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Jane asked. "Are you hungry, or would you like some coffee, maybe? I find that helps, sometimes—no sugar, no cream, just coffee."

Now in addition to feeling sick, Maura could tell a blush was creeping up her cheeks. "Jane, you don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," Jane interrupted gently. "But I want to. Let me help you, please. Does any food sound good? Or coffee? Angela makes the best coffee this side of the Mississippi. I could be back in five minutes. Okay? Coffee? Yes?" She grinned as Maura pulled the duvet up to her chin and nodded weakly. "Atta girl. I'll be right back."

As soon as Jane left the room, Maura tried to decipher whatever it was her body had been trying to tell her in the last minute or two. Every external and internal part of her had felt sluggish and slow until Jane had shown up, sending her receptors into overdrive. Her pulse had quickened, her skin had burned, and she had felt somehow overall weaker. Maura put two fingers to her neck, waiting impatiently for her pulse to return to normal as she tried to figure out why her body might react this way.

Jane had said she'd been drinking last night. Had she, Maura, done something more embarrassing than that? Something involving Jane? This was unreal—it felt like her dreams, when she had a faint idea that something may have occurred but could never fully remember what it was she had dreamt…

She decided to focus on something a little more plausible, like trying once more to stand up, and this time she was successful. Very slowly and with much assistance from nearby pieces of furniture, she made her way to the bathroom, where she kept a bowl of water on the basin to rinse her face. She frowned upon noticing that her smaller towel was mysteriously missing, but then her eyes caught sight of the water that was still in her tub, and a memory came roaring back to her like a train.

The force was such that she backed up against the basin, breathing deeply and trying to make the disparate recollections cohere—the nakedness of Jane's back—Maura's body taking action over her brain, allowing a fantasy regarding Jake Wyatt—or was it Jane?—to take control, to push her over an edge that had never even been in her field of view before. How far had it gone?

Maura rubbed her arms, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that they were bare. As she made her way to the closet in the main room, she internally made the vow to never consume alcohol again. She was reminded of an adage Garrett liked to throw around: "Lips that touch wine shall never touch mine." _Sounds sensible enough to me_, she thought, rummaging around in her closet for the robe she had brought from Boston. It was tucked away in the very back, not often used because of the heat in Hollow Creek. But it had started getting a bit cooler in the evenings; perhaps she ought to start wearing it more often.

She had no way of knowing when Jane would be back, and at this point she felt unsure as to whether or not she wanted her to return at all. It would be embarrassing and unbecoming to admit how handsome she had found Jake Wyatt to be, although she knew that she was not the first woman to have done so (and besides, the possibility of attraction had flown out the window the moment she learned Jake was actually female… right?). Jake Wyatt cut a very impressive figure, and Maura could not blame other women for finding him attractive. _So there's certainly nothing __I__ should be embarrassed about_…

To pass the time until Jane's inevitable return, Maura picked up her copy of _Little Women _and settled back into bed with it, but was despondent to realize that the print seemed too small to read. She couldn't take it all in at once. She idly fingered the makeshift bookmark she'd been using, which was her name in Jane's handwriting. It was from the apology note Jane had written. Once they'd made up, Maura wanted to throw the short letter away, because she didn't want to be reminded of how Jane had treated her. But she had found herself unable to discard it completely, because it was even more so than Wind Whistler's new shoes or Bass's new crate, it was evidence of what Jane had been personally willing to go through to get Maura's forgiveness. Besides that, she simply liked the way her name looked in Jane's unique handwriting. So with a surgeon's precision, she had torn her name out of the paper and kept it.

But when she heard a knock at her door a moment later, she stuffed the little slip of paper under her pillow so fast it made her head spin. Her first instinct told her it would be rather embarrassing to be caught in such a sentimental state.

"Come in," she said in an oddly strangled voice. It took Jane a moment to get inside, and the reason wasn't made clear until she succeeded and Maura saw that she was balancing a tray in one hand. As Jane came over to the bed, Maura sat up straighter and despite being flustered, couldn't keep a smile off her face as she said, "Jane! What's that?"

"Well," Jane said, pulling out the tray's tiny legs and setting it over Maura's lap, "Melody asked where I was going, and I said to get coffee for ya, and she said I oughtta bring it to you on this tray so ya wouldn't spill it on your sheets or your… clothes." (She couldn't help noticing Maura's change for more modest attire.) "So Angela sent the coffee, and I guess she wanted to give you bread, too, just in case ya felt up to eating something, so there's that."

"And this?" Maura asked, delicately touching a slightly-withered flower that had been placed in a tiny bottle.

Jane pulled Maura's desk chair over and turned it around so she could rest on the back. "That's from me," she admitted bashfully, folding her arms on the top of the chair's back. "Ain't much growin' anymore, but I saw it and thought you might think it was pretty."

"Well, you were right," Maura said tenderly.

She felt very insecure having Jane watch her, and had half-hoped that Jane would leave after delivering the coffee, but she appeared very intent on staying. She had her hair down the way Maura liked it—it had been nice last night when it was held up, and Jane _had _been beautiful in that dress, but there was no denying that this was the way she was supposed to look: scraggly wild hair that went down past her shoulders, plain white button-up shirt (complete with bolo tie), and dark denim pants tucked into rough brown boots. As was customary for when she was indoors, her hat was slung over her back. Maura also couldn't help noticing that Jane's gloves were still on, possibly out of habit, but when she took a sip of the coffee, she found herself newly distracted in a wonderful way.

"Good, huh?" Jane asked when Maura made a sort of noise that indicated how appetizing the coffee tasted.

"Yes, it's just what I needed," Maura said.

"Coffee's hard to come by, I'm sure you've noticed," Jane said, "but Angela's never seemed to have any trouble gettin' it. Thank God!"

Maura smiled, and then something dawned on her. "Jane, how did you know—I mean how is it that earlier, as soon as I fell, you were able to get in here?"

Jane self-consciously averted her gaze, looking about as restless as a person could while sitting on a backwards chair. "Well—so far as anyone knows, you didn't drink. You're just sick. That's how come Garrett thinks you left the party last night, and how come Melody thinks you didn't come down this morning. I didn't think you'd want anyone else knowin' what happened. I had to leave last night 'cause I ain't a resident, but I came back as early as Melody would let me inside, so I could uh…" She chuckled nervously. "So I could be here when you woke up."

She was startled by the intensity of emotion on Maura's face. "So you've just been sitting in the hallway, waiting for me to wake up? For how long?"

Jane shrugged. "Not long." (It had been three and a half hours.) "I wasn't bored or nothin', I promise. Look." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the papers she and Maura had written on a few days ago. "I been studyin'! Besides, I ain't got any legitimate work to do while I'm around here, so I may as well spend my time workin' on this, right?"

"Um…thank you," Maura said in a soft voice. "I mean, for not telling anyone about…"

"Yeah of course," Jane said reverently back. "Nobody needs to know about it, especially since it weren't your fault."

"I've never experienced anything like that before in my life," Maura said quietly over her cup.

"What, bein' drunk?" Jane asked, instantly regretting the use of the word when she saw Maura wince at it. She tried softening the blow. "Er—tipsy, I mean."

"Well whatever it was, I didn't care for it," Maura said. "I feel—looking back, I feel as though I wasn't myself. It's as though another being was living inside my body, speaking and thinking for me, and when it left, it…" She hissed in light pain and gingerly touched her forehead. "It took my memories, also."

Idly kneading her hands again, Jane murmured, "Yeah, that can happen." She bit her lip, remembering all too clearly what had transpired last night: the way Maura had cried in her arms, how she had kissed some of those tears away, how Maura had touched her face with those delicate fingers, how she had admitted to finding Jake Wyatt attractive—were all those recollections lost on Maura? Clearing her throat, Jane did her best to sound casual when she asked, "So do—you don't remember anything? At all?"

Maura took a purposefully long sip, trying to figure out how best to answer. "Uh—well, I remember …I remember just—feeling…" She shrugged, clutching her cup tightly with both hands. "A little crazy. Uninhibited. Does that happen to you?" she deflected. "When you drink, are you able to recall things?"

"Depends," Jane answered, which Maura had been expecting. "It uh, depends on _how _much you drink of what _type _of drink. I could be gone after one glass of somethin', and Frost could go through five before you'd know he weren't sober. So it depends on the person, too. You know." She shrugged again. "And I reckon since that's the first time you ever drank, it might have more of an affect on ya 'cause you ain't used to it."

"Yes, but…" She took another long draw of coffee, trying to figure out how to get across what she wanted to say while still remaining somewhat discreet. "When you have—ah—indulged, do you find that …do you find that your emotions and thoughts are your own? That you would still feel and think the same way sober? Or are they completely new and should be ignored?"

Jane got the feeling that Maura was dancing around a specific idea, trying to go around it. Much as she wanted desperately to know what it was, Jane knew it would be rude to take advantage of Maura's inability to lie by asking her to be direct. Her privacy should be respected. So Jane responded the best she figured she could:

"Well, I reckon I'm a funny person to ask. Frost says sometimes the more I drink, the less he sees me. I mean, the more he sees _Jake_. I act like him and I believe I really _am _him, y'know? Well…" She snorted and looked down at the floor. "You saw how I was the other day. I can be worse. It's like you said, you just go—" She waved her hands. "Crazy. Violent. I don't like to think that's really _me_, you know? But I dunno, I guess maybe it is." She breathed in deeply when Maura reached out to touch her arm, and Jane covered her hand. "Maybe that's what the drink does. It brings out what I really wish I could be doin'. Bashing that guy's head in, I mean. Killing him like he did my dad."

It felt strange to hear her speaking of such violent acts when she was doing something as gentle as stroking Maura's hand. She inhaled deeply and pulled off her glove, letting Maura's fingers reconnect with her own newly bare ones, and Jane couldn't remember the last time such a small movement had made her feel so at peace.

"So…I dunno if that answers your question, Maura," she finally said. "I try to keep it all inside, you know? All that hurt I carried around so long, all the pain I wanna give that guy if I ever see him again. When I drink, I can't keep it in anymore. But like I said, it's different for everyone. Frost and I met a fella over in Colorado who was just about as nice as could be, unless he got a little nip in him. He changed so's he was almost another person entirely."

"Well that's what happens to you, isn't it?" Maura asked.

Jane smiled ruefully. "I ain't usually this nice," she said. "You seen me around other people. I got a short temper. A short fuse, Angela would say. I ain't got patience or any of that. I guess that's why, uh …" She ran her free hand nervously through her hair. "I guess that's how come I like spendin' time with you. You make me feel like a real human being. I mean, not that my brothers don't do that, or Angela or even Korsak—but it's different with you. You… make me _want _to be better." When this was met by nothing but astonished, humbled silence, Jane noticed the book lying open on Maura's bed. Nodding at it, she said, "Take readin', for example. Everyone thought I was a lost cause. I ain't ever been so good at it, and I'm even worse at writin', but you showed faith in me. That meant a lot. What're ya readin', anyhow?"

"Oh, it's just _Little Women_," Maura said, picking it up. "Again. It's the book I read whenever I need comfort, and well, this morning I felt like I needed comfort." She gave Jane's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "But I got that thanks to you. Just as well, too—my head hurts so badly, I can hardly focus on the words on the page."

"Do you want me to read to ya?" Jane offered, pulling off her other glove and taking the open book out of Maura's hands. "I mean—I won't be so good, I know, but I could try! Just a little?"

Maura was rather shocked that Jane would make such a proposition, but the eagerness in Jane's expression and tone made it hard to turn her down. What she found herself wondering was whether Jane was enthusiastic to practice her skills, or intent on entertaining Maura. (It was a little of both, but mostly the latter.)

"Well, if you'd feel comfortable," Maura said, taking the book back to see where her place had been on the page. "Yes… well, you remember Jo, who we talked about a few days ago? She's having a conversation with her mother here."

"What's her mother's name?"

"Um, they call her Marmee."

Jane let out a bark of a laugh. "Marmee? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's the name you get when someone from Concord tries to say 'mommy,'" Maura said, unable to pass up on the opportunity to mock the accent she considered herself blessed to have missed out on. Jane stared blankly at her. "Never mind."

She pointed to the line on the page where she approximated she had left off, and Jane carefully took the book back. She then scooted her chair around so that she was sitting closer to Maura's head, so if Maura's eyes started feeling more alert, she might be able to follow along and help Jane with the words she got hung up on.

"Starting here? Okay." Jane cleared her throat theatrically and started off: "_I am_…" She narrowed her eyes and brought the book closer. "A-n…g? R-y. How's the _a _in that supposed to sound? Like the one in my name, or yours?"

It took Maura a second to think about it. "Yours."

"Okay. _I am angry_…n… near-lie?"

"Lee."

"_Nearly ever…y day of my_…l-i-f-e. Is the _i _like the one in Isles or the one in Frankie?"

"Isles. There, it sounds like the letter itself."

"Okay. Do I say the _e_, or is it like my name, where you can't hear it?"

"It's like your name."

"Okay—so…_i_, and you can't hear the _e_. So, _life_." Relieved to have reached the end of a sentence, Jane read it all in one breath: "_I am angry nearly every day of my life_." She read it once more, and the words really sank in. "_I am angry nearly every day of my life_." Her brow furrowed, and she turned to look at Maura, her countenance one of utter betrayal, as if these characters in a book she had never read had turned on her. "Who's angry? Jo or her mother?"

Maura reached to take the book back, and Jane did not protest. "Her mother."

"Why's she angry all the time? What's she got to be angry about?"

Warily noting the tenseness in Jane's tone, Maura said patiently, "It could be lots of things. The book is set during the War, and her husband was off in the army, preaching. She's anxious and upset about that, naturally. It could be that she wants more out of life. She's a very giving character, a very kind one—that's why it was so shocking to me when I first read this, and she revealed it. She is such a happy mother that you would never expect her to say something like this. In fact the only reason she said it at all was to calm Jo, because Jo was so unhappy with her lot in life, but she felt bad complaining about it, and she felt bad about her temper. So Marmee wanted to comfort Jo by saying that even someone like her, who looked as though she had it together all the time, experienced anger. She had learned how to control it."

Looking seriously contemplative, Jane stared aimlessly at a spot on Maura's bedcovers. "I am angry nearly every day of my life," she whispered, and this time Maura recognized it was not meant as a recitation of the dialogue. But before she could struggle for the right, comforting thing to say, Jane's dark eyes caught her gaze and she continued, "It's a hard fight, Maura, to do what Marmee does. To keep it inside. I wish… I mean, I've only known you a few days. But those days I haven't hardly been angry at all. Impatient with Tommy, maybe, or frustrated with Angela, but not angry. Not angry like I been before." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "And I think it's 'cause of you."

The words came to Maura before she could even process them: "I am not typically predisposed to anger, but I think I could safely say I am sad nearly every day of my life. When I was a child, I was sad that I couldn't spend more time with my mother. When I got older, I was sad to learn why she and my father were separated, and I was sad knowing I could never be with both of them at the same time. I have always been sad about my struggle to make good friends. Real friends. It makes me sad when people second-guess my medical abilities based solely on the fact that I am a woman." She considered it a miracle on par with loaves and fishes that she could get through the rest of this without crying: "And it makes me _indescribably _sad to think that my father is dead. I know I have so much to be happy about, as I'm sure you do, in your way. But I can't fight the sadness—or I couldn't really, until I met you. Garrett can make me forget now and then, but often immediately after I have left him, I feel plagued by misery. Even, I admit, while we are together I sometimes feel inexplicably despondent. And it's as you said; I've only known you a few days, but… discounting that alcohol-induced incident, I have never felt sad around you. You made those feelings go away, and I don't know how you did it."

Jane stared at her, as if to say, _I don't know how I did it, either_. Instead, after a few more moments of meaningful gazing, she said quietly, "That's the kindest thing anyone's ever said to me." That was all she could think to say. She wanted to express more, to kiss Maura's hand or cheek in gratitude, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. "I will never be able to apologize enough for what you had to witness, though. I mean, when I'd been drinking."

"It's all right," Maura said in a soft but insistent voice. "Now I know how it feels. Jane, I don't believe that alcohol brings out the 'real you,' at least not in your case. I don't think you're violent. I don't think you're bad, or that you want to hurt people—and I don't care how much you want to fight me on it," she added, raising her voice when it seemed as though Jane was going to protest. "That is the impression I have gotten, and it's what I believe." _Besides,_ she figured, _if drinking turned you into someone else, it means it made __me__ act in a way contrary to what I would normally feel, too. That's what drinking does. It changes you_.

"You're kind," Jane said with a small laugh.

Someone knocked on the door just then, and Jane instantly straightened up, only just noticing how closely she had been leaning towards the bed and Maura. "Come in?" Maura said once Jane had gotten her gloves back on.

It was Melody, who looked surprised to see that Jane was still there. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, coming inside and handing an envelope over to Maura. "But this just arrived, dear. I thought you might like to read it." After Maura had thanked her, Melody glanced once more at Jane and then left.

"Well," Jane said, getting to her feet. "I'd best let you alone and let ya read that letter."

"Oh, please stay," Maura said, frowning as Jane put the chair back in its place.

"I should let you rest," Jane said, though she wanted desperately to stay. "You're probably gonna want to sleep soon, and I don't want you should feel like you've gotta keep me entertained or nothin'. Go on and read your letter. I can come back later."

"Will you?"

Jane smiled. "Of course, if ya want me to. I could bring Jo by to see you."

Maura reflected the grin. "I'd like that."

"All right, I'll be here, then," Jane said. "G'bye."

"Goodbye…" And Jane was gone before Maura could thank her again. Or before she could ask her if she wouldn't mind bringing her one of the books from her shelf—which Maura was capable of doing, but didn't feel like getting out of bed to do. The timing of the letter was fortuitous, then (Benjamin Rush's _Medical_ _Inquiries and Observations Upon the Diseases of the Mind_ would have to wait, regardless of how much it could tell her about the scientific affects drinking had on the mind and memory).

All thoughts of alcohol and Jane were washed away the moment Maura actually looked down at the envelope and realized it had been forwarded from her Boston address, and she saw that the handwriting belonged to her mother. She nearly tore the paper in half in her anxiety to open the letter:

"_Bonjour, my dear!_

_By the time you receive this letter, I expect I will have arrived in Chicago! I know I have written you of my dear friend Mary Cassatt in the past—she once did some wonderful work in Chicago, but all her paintings burned up in the fire of '71. Such a shame, isn't it? But she holds no ill will towards the city, and has been in correspondence with a former associate there who wishes to hold an exhibition of European artists. Wouldn't you know it? Your dear mama is one of the fortunate few who has been chosen to be a part of this display! Mary will of course be exhibiting some of her work as well, although unfortunately, she will be remaining in France for most of the show's run._

_I am writing to ask if it would be at all possible for you to come join me in Chicago. I realize it is a long trip from Boston, but you must admit it is certainly shorter than the voyage to France! I have already asked the proprietor of the gallery to put your name down as my guest, and to also leave a space available for you to bring a companion. Were it not for the fact that only yesterday I received word of your father's death, I would suggest you bring him with you. Although I am not sure he would have liked to see me, I know he would prefer you to travel with someone (I am still not sure I can forgive him for employing that horrendous chaperone you always brought with you to France.)_

_One more request: do not bring Garrett Fairfield. The polite reason would be that your father would find it indecent for you to travel alone with a man who is not yet your husband, and I agree that in your country, that is the unfortunate reality. But I shall not lie to you, my dear. You know in the past I have not made my feelings towards Mr. Fairfield a secret, so I see no reason to do otherwise now. If you wish to marry him, all right. That is your choice. I will not have to see him that much, so I don't care. But I do not want that man at my gallery. Please, dear, bring one of the many friends I am sure adore you in Boston._

_Oh! I very nearly forgot to tell you—the gallery opens on December the seventeenth. Quite close to Christmas, I realize, but I do not expect you to spend the holiday in Chicago. I myself will be quite busy, so you should feel no obligation towards me other than arriving for the show's opening. I do so look forward to seeing you there!_"

In the post script, she had added the address of the gallery, which for some reason made it seem all the more real. Maura read the letter twice more before draining her cup of cooled coffee and allowing herself to lie back completely.

Her mother had met Garrett only once, when he had traveled to Europe to visit old Uncle Charles, who owned a fashion business in Milan. Garrett had made the trip over to Paris to visit Maura and meet her mother, where both he and Maura failed to recognize why her mother had disliked him so. In their defense, they never could have guessed that Constance would have been irritated by his ingratiating attitude, his over-politeness, his utter American-ness. He was a bore, a phony, and too eager to please—in essence, too much like Maura's father.

_But who would I ask instead? _Maura wondered. She would have considered just bringing Garrett anyway (in a fit of rebellion her mother never would have encountered before), but she had to acknowledge the idea of taking a train ride with Garrett would be indecent, no matter if they had separate compartments. _I wonder how Jane would feel about Impressionist art_…

About this time, Jane was humming as she strolled into Angela's saloon to pick up Jo. Frankie had been watching the dog for her, and she bounded towards Jane as soon as she walked in. Jane got down on the floor and engaged her in a quick, harmless scuffle before she heard Angela "a-_hem_," and saw the woman was standing right in front of her with her hands disapprovingly rested on her hips.

"No wonder you ain't married yet, Janie," Angela sighed as Jane stood up and brushed herself off. "You go around like a man."

"And what's wrong with that?" Jane asked.

"Oh, you'll never change," Angela said with a weary laugh. "But Jane, do you know who came by here earlier? That fellow Jorge!"

"Jorge. Oh, he was nice."

"Then you'll have dinner with him?"

Angela's tone was a little too eager, and Jane smirked. "He come by and ask you that?"

"He mentioned it," Angela said. "He really enjoyed the time he spent with you last night."

"And I enjoyed it, too," Jane said honestly. "He's a real nice guy. But I already told Maura I'd go see her later—she really loved the coffee, by the way. She's feelin' better, but she ain't gonna leave the boarding house today. So I wanna go keep her company."

Angela waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't you go botherin' Dr. Isles! Besides, I'm sure she has plenty of friends who could go visit her."

"Nah, I'm gonna go," Jane said.

"What're you gonna do when she marries Mr. Fairfield?" Angela sighed. "And she can't be with you all the time?"

"I'm hardly with her all the time now," Jane pointed out. "I just like spendin' time with her. Except now. Now I hope she's asleep, and I'm gonna go see Adelaide about buyin' that capelet she leant me yesterday. Maura wanted it."

"You're going to buy it for her?" Angela asked in exasperation. "Why don't you buy Jorge something?"

"Sure! You think he'd like a capelet? Or there was that real nice corset Adelaide almost had me wear. Maybe he'd like that."

"Jane!" Angela groaned. Jane just laughed and headed for the door, Jo close on her heels. "Jane, I just worry about ya, that's all! I wanna see you taken care of, you know that, right? I don't want you to die an old maid!"

Jane turned back around at the door, raising her eyebrows. She jauntily pulled her hat back onto her head and smirking, assured the woman, "I have no intention to, Angela. I shall die a bachelor!"

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><p><strong>AN**: Five bajillion brownie points if you recognized that last line, which is far too brilliant to be mine.


	28. Something There

**A/N**: First of all, I want to marry all of you who got the _Queen Christina _quote. Way to be up on your classic queer movie references! Secondly, my pseudo-carpal tunnel seems to be on the mend, but that's why it took me a bit longer than usual to get this installment out. That may happen for a while... typing is not easy and not fun in this condition. So please review this one, haha- it was completed with love and pain!

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><p>It was late afternoon by the time Jane figured Maura might be up for some company. She had stopped by Adelaide's to pick up the capelet, and upon hearing that it was intended to be something of a get-well present for Maura's first hangover, Adelaide offered it on the house. But Jane, with the genteel sense of ethics she had inherited from her father, insisted on paying full price. She did not earn all of her money honestly—she and Frost never stole money for themselves; they survived mostly off food or money they won in card games or other bets, and had saved a bit from the few real jobs they had managed to hold down over the years. As the act of making money was not always honest, Jane hoped that she could balance out that act by at least <em>spending <em>the money honestly.

Figuring out how to sneak Jo into Melody's strictly anti-dog establishment was a bit trickier. Jane finally wound up going back to Adelaide's and asking to borrow a hat box, which she promptly cut two large air holes in. Instructing Jo to remain silent, Jane held the hat box on top of the much slimmer one that held the capelet (it was the one time Jane was grateful for her dog's tiny size).

Maura was thrilled to receive her guests, particularly amused at how Jane had managed to sneak up the dog. Jo was very well-behaved, remaining silent as she scampered over to the other pet in the room. She spent the duration of Jane's visit sniffing Bass' crate, watching carefully (in vain) for any sign of movement.

"Oh, poor Josephine!" Maura laughed, sitting back down on her bed as Jane pulled over the desk chair. "She's all confused!"

"Yeah, I bet she ain't ever seen a critter like that," Jane chuckled, balancing the other box on her lap. She sighed and cast a more wistful look at Jo. "She ain't ever gonna get big, is she?"

Maura frowned, sensing Jane's disappointment. "I'm afraid that at this point, it seems unlikely."

"Bass is gonna outgrow her soon!" Jane laughed, not wanting Maura to feel sad on her behalf. "You know, bein' small is practical. Makes it easier to carry her around when I have to. Say, that reminds me." She picked up the slim box and handed it over to Maura. "I picked this up for ya." Curiously opening the box, Maura gasped softly when she the black wool capelet inside. Misreading this expression, Jane nervously realized, "Were you just sayin' you liked it to be polite? You don't have to keep it if you don't want it."

"Jane, I love it!" Maura said, her voice and face brimming with sincerity. "It's so beautiful—but are you sure _you _don't want it?"

Jane snorted and waved her hand dismissively. "Please, you're doin' me a favor takin' it off my hands! Besides, I want to see how it'll look on you. I mean, I think it'll look better on you than it did on me."

"I don't know if that would be possible," Maura said, closing the box and laying it next to her. "It looked absolutely stunning on you." When Jane did nothing but laugh nervously, Maura said, "Are you _sure _you want to give it to me?"

"Sure I'm sure. I still wanna make it up to you for…y'know."

"Jane," Maura sighed. "If there is any silver lining to be found regarding my unplanned drinking last night, it's that I gained a sense of how little control a person _does _have over themselves when they have imbibed. Considering what you've gone through …I can't imagine how much that must all come to the surface when you drink. I know in your right mind you would never do anything to hurt me—quite the opposite in fact." Jane looked only slightly reassured, prompting Maura to say, "But…"

"What?"

Eying the letter from her mother which was still on her nightstand, Maura bit her lip before saying, "If you still feel the need to make it up to me, I have a favor to ask you."

"I'll do it," Jane said quickly. "I don't care _what _it is, Maura, I'll do it."

The earnestness in her voice was almost overwhelming, particularly when coupled with the fact that she was leaning forward eagerly and wearing an expression which communicated she was eager only to please.

"I had a letter from my mother," Maura said.

Jane's eyebrows rose and she sat back a bit. "Your mother? What'd she say?"

"She uh…she's coming here. To America."

"To see you?"

"Well…not exactly, no. There's a rather prestigious artist spearheading an exhibition in Chicago, and some of my mother's works have been included in it, so she'll be coming. I mean, I imagine she'll remain in Illinois for the duration of her visit to the states, unless she stops in Boston first. The letter was actually sent to my address there—I suppose in my haste to come out here, I forgot to mention the fact that I was moving." She sighed softly. "She probably won't be pleased about that."

"So…what's the favor you want of me?" Jane asked, sounding confused.

"I hoped—that is, my mother mentioned it would be ideal for me to travel to Chicago with someone, and well, she's never quite cared for Garrett, so …I mean _I _would be fine to go by myself; I traveled all the way here from Boston, and it's a shorter trip to Chicago if we—I mean if _I—_go by train. But I'm assuming that if my mother has made it clear that she expects me to have a travelling companion, she will have a spot at the show's premiere for me and that companion. And well," she finished breathlessly, "I was hoping you would escort me. Er, come with me."

Of all the things Maura might have asked Jane to do, this would have been pretty low on the list of what Jane might have expected (somewhere below wearing a bustle but above starting a land war in Asia). "You want me to go with ya to your mother's art show?" she clarified. When Maura nodded, Jane leaned back fully in her chair. "Huh. I ain't ever been to an art show."

"Oh, they're—well, they're… quite lovely," Maura said. She had been about to call them "fascinating," but as she wasn't sure whether Jane would be that attracted to art shows as Maura had experienced them, didn't know if that would be a fair assessment. "You get… exposed to all sorts of points of view, and the work is always exquisite, even if it might not be to your taste." She had no idea what Jane's taste in art would be, but she got the feeling that it probably wouldn't fall into the realm of her mother's work.

"You think I'd like it?" Jane asked.

Ah, darn. "Well…"

Jane could see that the honest answer Maura felt pressed to give would be a resounding "no," so she quickly asked a second question: "Would it make you happy if I went?"

A little surprised by this change of tact, Maura said, "Yes. Yes, it would."

Jane sighed in happy defeat and said, "Well then, Dr. Isles, I'd be honored to go with you to Chicago." And the toothy grin this elicited from Maura was well worth any of the boredom that they might encounter. Jane would even wear a dress if it meant getting to see that smile again. "A train, huh? That might be nice. I never really been on one before, except to hold one up."

"You've held up trains?"

"Only with good intentions, I assure you. You know, we'd get word that so-and-so was catchin' a train out of town, and we'd find him. We had to keep up our reputation, so we'd have to take money from _some _people. But only people who looked like they could afford it. And we wouldn't ever spend it on ourselves—we'd send it back to people we'd met who needed it."

Maura nodded slowly. "So Jake Wyatt is secretly Robin Hood."

The name sounded vaguely familiar, and as Maura was smiling, Jane took it to be a good comparison. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you could say that." Unconsciously massaging the recovering wound on her waist, she said, "It'll be nice to relax. I don't know if I feel quite up to horseback ridin' yet. Gets kinda bumpy."

"Oh! Have you been getting your bandages refreshed?"

"Not lately, not on my waist," Jane admitted. "It don't hurt _too _much anymore, really. It's the back that gets hell from too much ridin'."

"Stand up," Maura said, getting to her feet.

When Jane obeyed, Maura promptly placed her right hand on Jane's hip and before pressing her other to Jane's waist, said, "Breathe in." Again Jane obeyed, and when Maura slid her hand underneath Jane's shirt to feel bare skin, Jane forgot to breathe out again. In fact the exhale only came when Maura's deft fingers pressed on the wound, and Jane hissed, "_Ow! _What're you doing?"

"Just trying to see how you're coming along," Maura offered weakly, withdrawing her hand.

"I'm coming along fine," Jane insisted with as much patience as she could, tucking her shirt into her pants in case Maura got any more ideas. On a not entirely related note, she asked, "How do people dress in Chicago?" When Maura seemed hesitant to answer, Jane gestured to her own garb and asked, "Is this okay?"

"In Chicago? Most likely not," Maura said. "Although I've seen you in a number of ensembles that would probably pass for appropriate."

"You're gonna make me wear a dress again, aren't you?" Jane asked with a crooked smile.

"Not necessarily," Maura relented, also grinning. "You'd be my guest, and as such, I'd want you to be comfortable."

"Won't I embarrass you?" Jane teased her.

Maura teased her right back: "Probably." She thought about all the times people had unfavorably compared Jane to her, how Adelaide had made Jane do the degrading work of taking her measurements, how flustered Jane had initially been to admit her insufficient reading and writing skills. So in the spirit of fairness, she asked, "But haven't _I _embarrassed you?"

Jane was quick to quip back: "No…more than half a dozen times…?" She laughed, and Maura gave her arm a light shove before sitting back on her bed again. "When is this show, anyhow?"

"Not until December seventeenth."

"Oh. Cuttin' it pretty close to Christmas, there. You gonna spend the holiday with your mother?"

"No," Maura said with a shrug. "I'll be back here. With Garrett."

Also sitting down again, Jane said, "Maura…can I ask you something?"

"About my mother?"

"No, about your…about Mr. Fairfield."

Looking curious, Maura said, "Certainly."

"Why, uh…"

She was kneading her hands, prompting Maura to ask, "Do your hands hurt?"

Jane looked up. "Hm? Oh, no…no, it's just a nervous habit."

"Do I make you nervous?" Maura inquired, only semi-innocently.

"N…no," Jane stammered, suddenly feeling very hot around the collar. She let out a shaky laugh and said, "I just don't know if this is a question I should be askin', is all. How come you ain't married yet? Seems to me like you and Mr. Fairfield been sweet on each other for a long time, or at least ya known each other since you were kids. So how come you ain't married to him yet?"

It was a painful few moments before Maura decided to respond. She folded her arms thoughtfully and focused her stare on a spot on the desk behind Jane. "There are a few reasons," she said. "I won't get into them all now; I don't want to bore you. I think …I think everybody just expected we would get married. His family, my father, the whole town, essentially. Garrett's never wanted to do what anyone else wanted him to—he always has to be the one to make the choice, to do the deed, to say the words. I was nineteen when he first asked me if I'd like to get married."

"God, Maura, that was six years ago!"

"I know," Maura said with a weak chuckle. "He asked just as I was about to visit my mother in Paris. And I told him yes, I would marry him someday. It was difficult, Jane. When I was a child, I was always surprised when he would still consent to be my friend after I came home from those trips abroad. It was like I had never left! _Weeks _of boat travel to get there, and then often, several months in Europe. My schedule was so erratic, so unpredictable. And then when Garrett's mother died…" She sighed heavily and looked Jane in the eye, tacitly communicating that the following information was not to leave the room. "That really sent him to a bad place. He was so upset, he had to drop out of school. It took nearly a year for him just to recover."

Understanding all too well the trauma involved in losing a parent, Jane said, "That sounds terrible. But with all due respect …how come that kept him from marryin' ya, at least a couple years ago? Wouldn't it have been nice to have a wife to comfort him and keep house for him?"

"I imagine it might have been, yes," Maura said. "But Garrett …he really wanted to make his own mark. He could easily live off inherited money if that was his wish, but he wants to be a self-made man. That's what inspired him to move out here—he thought he could make a name for himself on his own merits. That said, he believes I am accustomed to luxury and refuses to marry me until he considers himself more than merely financially secure."

"And he ain't financially secure?" Jane asked skeptically. "I seen where he lives. If that ain't more than secure, I don't know what is."

"Technically, he doesn't own the house," Maura said. "His father paid for it, rather. Garrett paid his own way through school and paid to move out here. But his father insisted that to get started on the right foot and to… socialize with the right people, he needed to live in a good, impressive community. So Garrett agreed to let his father pay for a house, so long as he could pay him back with interest. That's where most of his money goes these days, to paying back his father. Once he has made enough to significantly cover his debt, then I think he will be open to the idea of marrying me."

"Oh," Jane said softly.

Silence loomed between them as they contemplated two very different trains of thought. Jane was thinking how wrong she may have been to quickly judge and question Garrett's character based solely on the nice home he was trying to provide for Maura. It was very upstanding of him to want to pay his father back.

Maura, on the other hand, could not fight off a blush as she remembered what Jane had drunkenly said to her the other day: _If I were Garrett Fairfield, I'd have married you years ago. You'd be a mother five times over by now_. She could remember it all in perfect detail—not just the words, but the gruff, husky voice with which they had been spoken, devoid of the gentleness or humor Jane's tone typically employed. She could remember the darkly honest look in Jane's eyes, and in retrospect considered how Jane had said that at times, when drunk, she took on Jake Wyatt's persona more fully …when she had made that drunken assertion, had it been an honest one? Unbidden images flew through Maura's helplessly unprotected mind, images of Jake being with her, confronting Garrett, staking a claim…

Jane's voice broke into her thoughts: "Maura? You all right?"

"What? Yes. I'm fine."

The response wasn't terribly convincing, and furthermore, Maura looked quite tired. Jane slowly stood up, and this time Maura did not protest. "I should probably go and let you rest up. Besides, I kinda promised Ma that I'd uh… have dinner with Jorge."

"Really?" Maura laughed.

"Yes! Seemed like the polite thing to do, as it's supposedly his last night in the Creek. Take care, Maura."

"Thank you," Maura said, "For everything, really. For coming by to see me, and bringing Jo, and getting me that lovely capelet. But most of all, thank you for your discretion."

"You're welcome," Jane said, scooping up her dog and placing her back into the hat box. Before she left, she turned at the door and said, "You just think about what it is you want me to wear to Chicago."

Chicago. Maura still couldn't believe how quickly Jane had agreed to go, to meet her mother. The artist and the outlaw. She chuckled softly. _Of course, mother will probably love her. A reprobate who doesn't care what society thinks of her… oh yes; she ought to find Jane far more intriguing than Garrett_.

It was really mostly thanks to her mother that Maura had any real understanding of human sexuality at all. When as a young adolescent she had finally asked her father where babies came from, his flustered response was that every species of every animal conceived of them in basically the same way: men and women, males and females, have their own sets of reproductive organs, and when combined, they generally resulted in children. He stopped there, not caring to explain exactly where or what these reproductive organs were. This was where Maura's mother came in, unbeknownst to Mr. Isles. When Maura had asked _her_ for an answer, her mother had referred her to a friend who in retrospect, Maura assumed to have been a prostitute. She told Maura the parts her father had mentioned were not seen in public outside of a museum. On her bed, right now, Maura closed her eyes and fought to remember exactly what the woman had said in her broken English.

"_You will feel it, Miss Isles, when it happens to you. When a man arouses your… interest, you will know. You feel your heart beat, yes? And perhaps that pulse that moves so fast when you run, you will feel that. But something else will beat also, and will beat only when you are feeling perhaps you would like to do something with that man which may lead to the babies you are so curious about!"_

Maura's eyes flew open as she was struck with more realization and remembrance. She had never understood what that woman had meant about a heartbeat in an unfamiliar place, but now she most certainly did. It had been pulsing just now at the thought of Jane—of Jake—claiming her, possessing her. And it wasn't just that, it was her heart as well as her pulse, too, all of them going haywire. Her hand flew up to her mouth to stifle the gasp that never came. What did this mean? She couldn't blame this on alcohol, unless the effects were still with her…

Instinct once again dictated that this feeling be satiated, but Maura stood up and started quickly pacing her room to take away the temptation. _Perhaps inviting Jane along to Chicago wasn't such a great idea,_ she thought glumly. _Maybe_ _if I do have her wear a dress, I won't be so confused. Jake Wyatt isn't real! He's not real! He's a woman, Maura, a woman. Think about it. It's as ridiculous as Jo and Bass getting along!_

When she glanced down at her tortoise, she saw that Bass had finally moved. His head was inclined towards the doorway, as if hoping that Jo Friday would come bounding back with Jane not far behind.

"I know how you feel," Maura sighed, kneeling down and picking off some cabbage to feed her pet.

The next day set a pattern for the next two weeks. After breakfast, Maura headed over to Angela's saloon to see Frost, Jane, and her brothers in the beginning stages of turning Stanley's tavern into Angela's new place. Angela and Korsak oversaw the project, and when Maura offered to help, they both insisted it was no work for a real lady like herself (and Jane didn't even protest). But she wanted to contribute in some way, so after she had had lunch with Garrett and done the rounds with Dr. Byron, she would come back to the tavern and read _Treasure Island _to Jane and the others while they took a break. The readings would sometimes get quite dramatic, and afterwards, Frankie and Tommy would act out some of the scenes while Jane and Frost moved furniture and Korsak painted. Everyone switched up jobs except for Maura, who happily remained their reader.

Occasionally she would arrive a bit too early, with one more task needing to be done before anyone felt they could take a break. Whether or not it was a conscious choice to keep coming earlier, Maura found herself going as soon as Dr. Byron felt it was all right to let her leave. It was still a marvel to her how fascinated she felt by Jane, how intrigued by her beautiful androgyny. Her help with the tavern really put this on display. One memorable afternoon, Maura arrived in time to see Angela directing Frost and Jane around with an old piano. Both of them were holding it by one end, and without announcing her presence, Maura watched through the open window. Jane was practically drenched with sweat, her clothes soaked with it and some errant strands of hair sticking to her forehead. Normally Maura found so much sweat extremely off-putting (which was why she could bring herself to watch so few of Garrett's beloved baseball games), but with Jane it was inexplicably different. The sweat was the result of hard work, of selfless dedication. Jane's dark hair would typically be pulled back and her sleeves rolled up, offering a grand view of her straining, muscular biceps and forearms—which Maura appreciated for aesthetic purposes only, of course.

Even as she told herself that, she knew on some level it couldn't be true, but it was the only way to rationalize what she was beginning to acknowledge as unmistakable arousal. Her only real comfort lay in Jane's very androgyny, in the safe knowledge that she, Maura, had never felt this way towards another woman before. First meeting Jane when she was disguised as a man certainly had its long-reaching, unforeseen side-effects. That definitely had to be it. Whatever it was, it still felt wrong, as if Maura was cheating on Garrett. With an outlaw, no less.

_Oh, how proud mother would be…_

Inevitably, break time would arrive before Maura could bring herself to consider the issue too much more, but then the vicious cycle would start up again the next day or at least the day after that.

Or so it did until the end of the first week of December, when Frost returned one night from his weekly foray into Green Forge with a letter in his hand. Angela had turned in early and the Rizzoli boys had just taken off for a heavily chaperoned dance. Maura, Korsak and Jane had stayed in the nearly-refurbished tavern, chewing the fat until Frost rode up and walked in looking quite serious.

"Got a letter for a Charles Fairfield?" he said, handing the note to Jane.

"How's that?" Korsak asked, looking from Jane to Maura.

Jane's heart hammered as she slit open the envelope, explaining, "Set up a post office box in Green Forge for that fella I met last month. I mean, for him to send me somethin' if he heard from his boss." She had been getting better and better at reading, an accomplishment Frost had tried to honor by handing her the letter, but she was too anxious to focus properly. She impatiently threw the letter back at Frost and said, "Read it."

Frost quickly scanned the brief note and relayed the message: "Said he heard from him. He's in Cook County in Illinois, or he was when the letter got sent."

"Did Stark write back?"

"Said he's not going to. Probably afraid of what Jake Wyatt would do if he did."

"Illinois," Jane said, turning to Maura. "You said that's where Chicago is, didn't you?"

"Yes," Maura answered, her heart sinking.

"Frost, we gotta go," Jane said seriously. "Korsak, give us a lift to Mesa?"

"What for?"

"Catch a train. Next train goin' that way—we ain't got no time to lose. If they don't got one goin' that way any time soon, we'll take horses, but all this hauling around and movin' stuff for Angela's not been so good to my back. I just been too good to complain about it. I don't fancy riding a horse all that way."

"I'll get the coach," Korsak said, getting up and walking out.

Frost nodded towards the doorway and walked over, Jane following him. Maura remained seated at the table, stunned by what had just transpired. She had nearly forgotten why Jane's other persona existed. What might happen to her?

"Jane," Frost said quietly, sure that Maura was out of earshot. "I hate this guy as much as you do. I want him dead as much as you do. I realize this is the closest we've come in a long time to gettin' him." He sighed deeply and looked Jane in the eye, trying in vain to read her blank expression. "But this is my last run. I don't wanna up and go all the time anymore. I want a real life, a real home. You know I stand by you. But after this trip, if you keep goin', I ain't gonna be with you in any way but spirit."

Had these words come from someone else, Jane might have flared up and been offended. But Frost's level, respectful tone reminded her of his companionship, and the hell he'd been through on her behalf. She glanced over at Maura and said, "Okay, Frost. I understand exactly what you mean." She looked at Maura again, involuntarily. "Gettin' up and goin' is my first instinct every time we hear somethin'. And I don't ever regret it—you gotta move fast. But I… this is the first time I almost would rather hang back."

"You still wanna go?" Frost asked.

Jane stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, I still wanna go. One last run. We're too close not to."

"All right, partner," he said. "I'll go grab some supplies." This would be quick; they always kept a store of needful things handy in case they needed to make a fast departure.

Once Frost had left, Maura walked up to where Jane was leaning against the doorframe, hands still in her pockets. "You're leaving?" she asked softly, failing to hide her concern and her disappointment.

"Yeah," Jane said just as quietly, staring at the stars that were gradually starting to appear. "But I promise, Maura. I promise to make it to Chicago in time for your mother's show, in time to meet you at the train station. You still planning on getting there a day early?"

"Yes."

Jane nodded. "I'll be there."

"What if something happens to you?" Maura blurted out.

Jane finally turned to look at her. Master as she was at hiding her emotions, Maura was the exact opposite: she was clearly scared and worried. "Don't you go fretting about me," Jane said, trying to smile. "I'll be fine."

"You can't promise me that!" Maura cried. "You have no way of knowing for sure that nothing will happen to you! What if you find this man? What if he hurts you again? What if something happens that you're not ready for?"

"How about this?" Jane said. "I promise not to do anything reckless."

"Are you going to kill him if you find him?"

A long, thoughtful silence passed before Jane reverted her gaze to the sky and said, "Only if Frost wants to. Oh, I wanna kill him, Maura. I really do. And I have no doubt that if I catch him, he will die. Just not by my hand. Korsak's right, we gotta be better out here. We gotta be more civilized. I might rough him up pretty bad, make sure he can't get away, but I'll turn him in. He'll get a trial. He'll hang. He'll hang for what he done."

Maura could not think of a proper response to this, allowing the quiet to resume. She realized it probably marked quite a progression that Jane had agreed not to kill this man on the spot if she found him. It was probably quite a sacrifice on her part. "Is Frost getting Jo?" Maura eventually asked.

An honest smile worked its way onto Jane's face. "No. I can't take her with us. She's too small, and besides that, we found out a little while ago she's afraid of fire. Couldn't sleep with us by a fire very well, could she? Nah. She's still my dog, but she's gonna stay here." Her hands clenched into fists inside her pockets, and thoughts of Jo seeped out of her mind to be replaced by something else. "When I was a kid, my dad used to say if I looked in the sky long enough, I could see my mother." She closed one eye and fixed her gaze on the moon. "Sometimes I could make her out. I'm gonna get him, Maura. I'm gonna get the man that killed my parents."

"Jane, must you go?" Maura whispered. "Must you live for the dead?"

Jane's brow furrowed and her eyes were sorrowful as she turned them back to Maura. "I done it this long," she said with a gentle shrug.

"What will you tell Angela?"

"I dunno. We'll come up with a story on the way to Mesa, and Korsak'll tell it to her. I'd invite ya to come along, but with all our things, I don't know that there'd be room."

"Should you wait until tomorrow? The station won't be open."

"S'all right. We'll kip under the stars till it _is _open."

"Well, if it's all the same, I think I'll go back to the boarding house."

Jane reached out for Maura's arm when the doctor had stepped away. Maura turned back to look at her, and Jane asked, "You ain't mad at me, are ya?"

It took a surprising amount of strength to shake her head. "No, I just…I…"

She took them both by surprise when she threw her arms around Jane's neck and hugged her tightly, squeezing hard as she closed her eyes and felt tears come out. They had embraced before, but this felt different: they had gained so much from their friendship, had shared so much about themselves and therefore learned so much about each other. As Jane gripped her firmly, wordlessly in return, they both came to the same conclusion that they had never had such a strong relationship with someone before in their lives. It was true that this was the most Jane had ever felt torn about leaving: she did not want to miss a day of Maura's life if she could help it, but finding her father's killer was the one opportunity she couldn't pass up. Not yet.

"I'll be careful," she whispered into Maura's ear, strong arms clutching her tightly. "How could I really risk my life without ever going to a fancy art show?"

Maura did her best to laugh, appreciating Jane's attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Maintaining their embrace, she said back, "And don't forget, you still have to teach me to ride like a man."

Jane chuckled weakly and finally pulled back, just in time to see Frost and Korsak riding up in the Sheriff's coach. "Right, I did promise ya that. And I never go back on my promises." She started walking down the front steps of the tavern as the coach pulled to a stop, but she turned to look at Maura and say: "December sixteenth. Chicago train station. I'll be there."

"So will I," Maura added uselessly. "Goodbye, Jane."

"It's not 'goodbye,'" Jane said in a level voice. "It's 'see ya around.'"

With that, she stepped up into the back of the coach with Frost, and they set off down the dark road. Jo Friday came running out of Angela's saloon where she had been sleeping, and she sped after the coach, barking madly. Maura lifted her skirts and chased her down, calling Jo's name. Recognizing the only voice besides Jane's that could command her, Jo stopped, but didn't cease her hurt, hopeful barking.

"I know, girl, I know," Maura whispered, bending down and picking up the little dog in her arms. Jo whimpered and tried half-heartedly to get free, but Maura held her close until the coach was out of sight. She didn't know if she was speaking more to the dog or to herself when she said, "It's all right. She'll be back… she'll be back."

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><p><strong>AN**: I really do want to thank all of you who are sticking with this story. Your patience is incredible and very much appreciated. I've cut out a few storylines that will instead show up in the sequel so we can get to Rizzles sooner. Your support is awesome :)


	29. Chicago Rendevous

**A/N**: Guys, thanks again for being so awesome. I can't tell you how much your reviews have meant to me. They are so gratifying to read and I really am grateful for the time you take to read this, and the time so many of you are gracious enough to take to give feedback. (p.s. Health-speaking, I'm sort of on the mend, so yay. Not back to 100% capacity, but typing isn't such a pain anymore!) Also, I hope you can all please forgive me for the issues of sensitive nature I take up in this chapter. I'd like to thank you for the trust you have displayed in my telling this story and hope I don't betray it here.

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><p>Garrett had not been particularly pleased to learn that Maura's devil-may-care mother would be coming to the States for a visit. He was even less pleased that Maura was planning on going to the woman's art show, even after he had been expressly asked not to come with her. He wasn't sure how he felt about Jane accompanying Maura to Chicago. Much as he was trying to give Calamity Jane the benefit of the doubt, he could not understand why Maura was such good friends with her. They were complete opposites: Maura was the very definition of class, while Jane lacked it entirely; Maura was respectfully soft-spoken and delicate while Jane was loud and rough-and-tumble; Maura enjoyed the graceful art of archery while Jane went around riding horses like a man and shooting off pistols. Who knew what shenanigans she might get up to away from home, unsupervised? What might Maura be exposed to?<p>

He was only assured when Maura had said, "If I survived Europe under my mother's hand, I'm sure I will be fine with Jane en route to Chicago."

But now Jane had run off with that black friend of hers (which was another thing—what was she doing running around all the time with a man she wasn't married to? Didn't she know the meaning of propriety?). Korsak had explained that Jane and Frost had taken off to meet a cattle rancher from Texas who was bringing his herd to Hollow Creek. Actually the deal was already done and the rancher had more than enough assistance, but it was a good cover that satisfied Angela (in that she found it believable—she was still frustrated that Jane tended to take off without word).

To lighten the annoyance that Garrett was surely feeling, Maura tried to spend as much time with him as possible. The night before she was bound to leave for Chicago, Maura stayed later than usual at Garrett's after dinner. They sat together on the back porch, Garrett reading a paper and Maura knitting a scarf. They seemed to be the only couple on the block who enjoyed the cool night air: everyone else was shut up safely and warmly inside.

After a while, Maura stopped her knitting and looked over at Garrett. She had noticed that since yesterday, he had been walking and sitting a little funny, as if part of him were in pain. When he moved to turn a page of the paper, he grimaced in unspoken discomfort, wincing as he shook the paper out.

"Garrett? Are you… feeling all right?"

"Hm? Yes, of course."

She was hesitant to push him, but after a short pause, asked, "Are you _sure_? Far be it from a trained medical professional to say it looks as though you're in pain, but it… it looks as though you're in pain."

Garrett laughed and folded the paper. Though typically proud by nature, he could occasionally bring himself to let Maura give him a hard time. "I'm afraid it's a rather embarrassing story, really. The carriage I usually take had fallen into disrepair, but I was in a hurry to reach Deputy Grant's home and didn't want to keep him waiting, so I just rode a horse. It had been a while and I didn't dismount properly."

"Oh, Garrett, you fell!" Maura said with the kind of sympathetic tone a mother might take when her most mollycoddled child skinned his knee.

"I lost my balance, but didn't quite fall," Garrett explained. "I'd have been fine if it weren't for that darn picket fence around Grant's yard." He chuckled and massaged his shoulder. "I very nearly took a dive onto it!" He thought Maura looked a tad more contemplative than the scenario called for, and misreading the serious look on her face, said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just thought—after what happened with that robber the other day, you… well, you made it seem as though I was a stranger to pain and overreacted to small things."

She shook her head as if coming out of a reverie, and waved her hand. "That was different, Garrett, and I apologize for my attitude. You had every right to be anxious about that; a stranger held you up! Anyone would've been startled. And you needn't feel silly about being in pain over this, either. Joints are particularly susceptible to pain." She cleared her throat and in a forced level voice, asked, "Would you like me to look at it?"

Though she was very gamely attempting to appear cool and collected, Garrett sensed that the idea of her proposition terrified her. "Maura," he said, also trying not to let emotion and excitement override him. "Are you… I mean—"

"Garrett, I've given it a lot of thought," Maura said, folding her hands delicately in her lap to further imply the calm she was so desperate to not only convey but actually feel. "Dr. Byron and my father have both operated on and seen female patients. There's nothing wrong or indecent about it; it's merely medical professionalism. Why should it be different for me to do the same?"

The lustier part of Garrett's brain wanted to tell Maura to just go ahead and do whatever she wanted, but the well-raised young man in him felt he ought to at least make an effort to protest. "Well, it would be different because you and I are… engaged. I shouldn't want to… well… encourage any, uh…"

"Oh for goodness' sake, Garrett, choose your words carefully," Maura sighed. "I'm not asking you to strip down and bathe in front of me, am I? No. I ask only that you take off your jacket and outer shirt so that I might help to heal you! There is no ulterior motive behind this request!"

"Oh, I didn't think that!" Garrett said quickly.

"Well what's the problem, then?"

"It just—it doesn't seem decent," Garrett mumbled, though it was clear his resolve was weakening.

Maura smiled a bit solemnly and reached for her fiancé's hand. "Garrett," she said in a soft voice, no longer feeling panicked. "You and I have been good friends since we were children. You are very dear to me and I admire so many things about you, including your sincere earnestness to be upstanding in a situation like this, where some men might have tried more actively pressing their advantage. Soon we are going to be as close as a man and woman can be. Darling, I've looked forward to that day for years. It's been a long, hard wait, but I can wait a little longer. Patience is one of my virtues, and healing is one of my talents. I can exhibit both at the same time—let me show you. Let me help you, please."

With a resigned sigh, Garrett leaned back and surveyed Maura. She was always honest in her intentions. If she believed there was nothing objectionable about this, he ought to take her at her word. Still, his voice was somewhat strained as he said, "All right. We should maybe uh, go inside. In case anyone happens to come and think…"

"Yes, good idea," Maura quickly agreed, picking up her sewing and getting to her feet.

She led the way into the sitting room and headed over to close the curtain. Garrett shrugged off his jacket and asked, "Do you need to uh, get any of your supplies, or…?"

"I figured I should see what the problem seems to be before I get anything," Maura answered, pulling a chair to the middle of the room. "Go ahead and sit down."

For all their posturing, both of them felt as antsy as if this was their wedding night. Garrett stiffly got to work untying his tie, and Maura went to hang up his jacket for lack of anything else to do besides watch him as he next moved to his shirt. _Nothing to get nervous about, Fairfield_, he thought as he started unbuttoning his shirt. _She treats men all the time. Granted, Byron has always taken care of patients who would require removing any of their clothes, but still. Maura is a doctor and I should respect her professionalism. If she's going to treat anyone with his shirt off, it __should__ be me!_ This pep talk was sufficient, and Garrett nodded to himself as he took off his shirt and hung it on the back of the chair, which is when he remembered that he hadn't put on an undershirt that morning.

He was going to tell Maura this, but then she walked back in and saw for herself. An involuntary gasp escaped her and her first instinct was to cover her eyes and turn away. "Garrett! Why aren't you—?"

"Maura, I'm sorry, I completely forgot—I haven't been wearing an undershirt since it happened, because it, well it irritated my shoulder to pull it on and off. I'm sorry, should I…? I mean, do you still want…"

Taking a deep breath, Maura turned to look at him, forcing her gaze to stay on his concerned-looking eyes. "Yes. I still want to take a look. My aunt was a nurse in the War, and her services were so needed that she saw plenty of men in every state of dress! I think you and I can both handle this."

"Yes, yes of course we can," Garrett agreed, though he didn't point out that he was in considerably less dire straits than any soldier Maura's aunt would have encountered. He sat warily down on the chair, hands curling into fists at his knees as Maura walked towards him.

She had underestimated them both.

There was a clear bruise on Garrett's shoulder from where he had hit the fence, and Maura gingerly pressed on the surrounding area to see how far it had spread. She took his hand and gave it a firm tug, moving the shoulder joint in all directions. Garrett grimaced with pain a few times but said nothing as Maura continued to knead and prod before ascertaining, "You've bruised your shoulder."

"Yes," he said with a short laugh. "I figured that much."

"I don't think there's anything more to it than that. If it's still bothering you—which it clearly is—you ought to put some ice on it. Is there an ice house nearby?"

"Yes, just down the street. I'll go right away."

"Good," Maura said, turning away.

She jumped a bit when Garrett stood and put his hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for looking," he said.

Maura walked around him, picking up his shirt and holding it out for him to stick his arms through the sleeves. He smiled nervously at her, wondering if this was an image of things to come in their lifetime together as he obligingly slid his arms into the sleeves. While he did up the buttons again, Maura reached for the tie he had placed on the nearby desk, and once he had done the last button, she threw it around his neck and started tying it.

"How is it women are so good at tying ties?" Garrett asked with a laugh.

"One of life's great mysteries, I suppose," Maura said. "Although my mother was often inclined to wear them herself, and she taught me as a girl. In other instances, I might say that tying a tie requires a certain amount of patience and attention to detail that many men lack." On the last word, she tightened the tie, then impulsively smoothed out his shirt near the top.

He took her hands before she could lower them, clasping them gently in his own. Their eyes locked, and Maura knew right away that a line was about to be crossed. Her heart was racing in anticipation, but she was not afraid. She wanted this to happen, and in spite of everything she had said about this situation not being precarious and everything Garrett had said about not wanting to do anything indecent, on some level they both knew that there had been a good chance they might end up here. Garrett found himself lost for words, wanting to say something eloquent but feeling incredibly unqualified to do so as he looked into Maura's lovely, trusting eyes.

"Maura," he whispered. "May I kiss you?"

She gulped but not did look away. "Yes, Garrett."

He wanted to smile, but seemed to have forgotten how. All he knew was that this felt right. Tightening his grip slightly on Maura's hands, he bent his head and turned it slightly to the left to kiss her. For the first time in her life, Maura found herself completely at a loss for what she was supposed to do. Is this what kissing was? Should she be doing something else in addition to letting Garrett press his lips against hers? What more was involved? It occurred to her later that she probably shouldn't have been thinking so much while this was going on. After only a few moments, Garrett pulled back, a smile now firmly in place.

"I should go," Maura said quietly, gently taking her hands out of Garrett's.

"Yes, you're probably right," he agreed, stepping back. "Wait—how are you getting back into town?"

She turned at the door. "Dr. Byron is making his weekly rounds at the jail. He should be leaving soon, and I will take a ride from him. Make sure you see about getting some ice for your shoulder."

"Maura, wait," Garrett said, walking swiftly to get over to her. He shut the door abruptly when she had gotten it open a few inches. It closed with unexpected loudness, and Maura's instant fear was that Garrett was about to do something to her. But all he did was say, "I'm sorry if that was—I mean I know we both agreed that nothing like that would happen, but that's why I _asked _you if I could."

"I know," she said, though she still looked shaken. "It still just sort of took me off guard is all. I'm not sorry it happened, Garrett. Really I'm not."

"Are you sure?" he asked with another nervous laugh.

"Of course," she said with a smile. "You were a perfect gentleman. I'm only leaving because I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, and …I really should be going."

They said their goodbyes, and Maura headed down the street to Dr. Byron's home. It would be the last time for a few days that she would be seeing Garrett, as he was unable to leave work to take her to the station tomorrow. She felt strangely unbothered by the fact that she wouldn't see him for a small while. When he had first left Boston, she had cried for two nights, although that was possibly because she hadn't known for sure how soon they would be reunited. Her thoughts were briefly interrupted when she reached the doctor's house and asked him if he would mind giving her a ride back to town as he was going there himself. He was quick to oblige, and as he went about tying his horse to the coach, Maura lost herself in her thoughts once more.

In Boston, Maura had not had much of a life outside of the hospital and Garrett. She had enjoyed spending time with him because she felt he was one of the few people in town who genuinely liked her in spite of her sometimes odd behavior. In Hollow Creek, she realized that Garrett was very often a footnote in her thoughts. She still considered him a good friend and could not quite picture life without his company, but how much of that was obligation? Were it not for him and his efforts, she never would have come out to Arizona.

But it wasn't the same. At home, he had been the only person she ever wanted to spend time with, and that was no longer the case. The people of Hollow Creek were (for the most part) fairly open-minded, or at least none of them mocked her quirks. Melody was certainly a nicer landlady than she'd have found in Boston. Angela was warm like every mother should be. Even Korsak took it upon himself not to be an aloof figure of authority, but almost like the town's collective father. She'd have been hard-pressed to find a doctor like Byron back in Boston—he was grateful for her experience and her assistance, and never made her feel lesser because of her gender. Out here, he said, there wasn't usually room for prejudices like that.

It had been gratifying at first to have Garrett around, a familiar face in a vastly unfamiliar place. And it wasn't as though he bored her or that she was tired of him, it was just that she realized that much of the time when she was with him, she was thinking of someone else.

Namely, Jane.

Jane was on her mind during the drive back to town (_Garrett's physique might give her a run for her money_). She was on her mind when Maura went to sleep (_I might get to see Jane in two days!_). Jane was on her mind when she woke up (_oh please, God, let her be there_). And while Deputy Grant drove her to the station at Mesa, trying to console her about her brief separation from Garrett, all Maura could think was _I hope Jane hasn't done anything reckless. If she went and got herself hurt badly, I swear I'll kill her myself!_

As Maura spent most of her two-day journey contemplating this and everything that had transpired between her and Garrett, Jane was also experiencing a new first—or rather, Jake was.

It had been another week and a half of fruitless searching for Frost and Jane, which they later thought wasn't all too surprising: they hadn't had much to go on besides a location. No incidents, no cases, still no physical description. Just as unhelpful was the fact that people seemed less open to treating Frost as anything close to an equal, sometimes even after they'd been plied with plenty of liquor. Furthermore, though the name Jake Wyatt was known beyond the West, nobody knew what he was supposed to look like, which was something Jane usually banked on. They got into some high-stakes poker games and one bar fight (where Frost acquired a split lip and Jane a cut on the cheek) before finally landing on something potentially useful.

"Guy was talkin' like I wasn't even there," Frost said to Jane, who had been packing their supplies. "Says he was in a bar and heard some fella bragging about past exploits. Murders."

"Murders of couples?"

Frost nodded grimly. "Could've just been empty words, but I figure it's the best we got. The guy I heard, we've seen him around. You've seen him around, I mean. He's the tall, bald one. Kinda dark, like that Jorge."

"Wonder if he's an apprentice," Jane mused, cracking her knuckles. "Stark, the guy who tipped us off, he was tall and bald, too." Frost just shrugged. "Was he the one who was givin' me so much guff about my gun? His name was Bobby… Bobby something."

"Yeah, that's him."

"Right." Jane clapped Frost on the shoulder and said, "Looks like Jake needs to make one more appearance."

Finding Bobby turned out to be easier than Jane had been anticipating, because in fact, she wound up not having to do anything. Bobby had come to her. It was pretty late at night, and she had just asked Frost to go back to try and steal some eggs (unless he could find someone willing to sell to him. Jane would've gone herself, but she was determined to find Bobby). She was just pulling on her belt when she saw Bobby approaching her, alone. His timing was fortunate, as she had only recently finished putting up her hair and applying the fake goatee and mustache her disguise required. They were quite alone, as Jane and Frost had chosen a remote spot by a lake to camp out.

"Mr. Wyatt?" Bobby said with a wide grin.

Jane looked him over and said, "You know who I am?"

"Sure as you're born. Recognized you the moment I saw you, but I didn't want to startle the fellas in the game. I got a pal out in Arizona who reckons you're pretty famous," he said, walking closer. "Told me I ought to come join him out west, which is where I'm headed, so long as I'm careful for outlaws like you. He sent me a nice little poster with your face on it." He grinned and tapped his nose. "Doesn't quite do you justice, the picture. Your nose isn't quite so long as they drew it."

"If you're lookin' for reward money, you better calm yourself down," Jane said, feeling surprisingly calm herself as she pulled out her gun.

Bobby held up his hands. "I ain't lookin' for trouble, Mr. Wyatt. Can I call you Jake? I was just curious what you're doing all the way out here in Cook County."

Throwing caution to the winds, Jane said, "I'm lookin' for somebody. Maybe you've heard of him."

Bobby stopped about a foot away from Jane, hands shoved into his pockets. He didn't even seem to care that Jane still had a gun pointed at him. "Maybe I have. What's his name?"

"Don't know the name. Just know the crime. Kills couples. Husbands and wives."

"Oh yes," Bobby said, stroking his chin as if he had heard of this man many years ago and not earlier that night. "Yes, I heard some old drunk rambling about it. Name of Charles, I believe. Not sure if that was his first or his last name, though. Why you interested? He kill your wife?"

Jane snorted and stored her gun back in place. "No. Ain't got a wife."

"Doesn't surprise me," Bobby chuckled. "From what I've heard, you don't like keeping women around if you can help it. Kind of funny, ain't it? I know plenty of women who find men like you utterly irresistible. Dangerous, dark, mysterious. Real ladies might not be so interested, but women? Yes." He cocked his head. "How about your man I seen you with? The dark one? I hear dark men tend to be loaded better than most. Would you say that's true?"

"I don't…"

"Must be nice having a companion like that around," Bobby said, his voice getting lower as he stepped closer, and Jane turned away, heading slowly for her horse as Bobby kept going. "Men like you and me, Jake? Women swoon over us. Hell, maybe you've taken a few. I know I have."

Instinct told Jane she needed to run off fast or pull out her gun again, but the thought came a second too late and Bobby had both of her arms in a viselike grip, yanking her backwards into him. The force knocked her hat off and her hair down, but Bobby didn't seem to notice or care. His fingers dug into her arms in a gross imitation of a massage before moving down to her waist, pulling her even closer, rolling his hips against her. She was too petrified to move or to speak. Plenty of times men had tried taking advantage of her, but never when she was in disguise, never when they thought she too was a man.

Bobby's breath was hot on her neck as he whispered into her ear, "But sometimes we need more. Women just take it, they don't give back. They don't fight back. Real men, like you and me, Jake, they like a challenge. They like a fight." When Jane still didn't respond verbally or physically, Bobby dared, "Tell me I'm wrong."

Jane finally got her senses back when she felt Bobby reaching for the buckle on her belt, or possibly the fake bulge in her pants. She rammed her elbow into his gut, and he instantly buckled at the unexpected blow. A backwards kick to the shin sent him to the ground with a howl of pain, and Jane swiftly turned on the spot, pulling out her gun and pointing it down at him.

"Well, well," he said, sitting up. "That's a bit more of a fight than I expected."

"Don't you touch me," Jane said, trembling from head to foot. "I mean it. Don't you come near. You hear me? I don't know what stories you've heard, but I am a man of morals."

Bobby looked confused. "Morals? This ain't immoral, Mr. Wyatt. Animals gotta do what animals gotta do. And we're animals."

"_Don't_ get up," Jane said when Bobby made to get to his feet. He obligingly stayed down, and she could tell that he looked noticeably less confident than he had a moment ago. "I ain't interested. You got that? I ain't interested."

She stood over him, still quivering, but not doing or saying anything else. "What're you gonna do?" Bobby finally asked.

"I ain't gonna do nothin' if you cooperate," Jane said, forcing her voice to be steady. "You just tell me what I want to know if you know it. This man, this Charles. Did he say where he'd come from?"

"Some place out east—Philadelphia, I think. In Pennsylvania."

Stark had said his boss's last letter came from Pennsylvania. "He say where he was goin'?"

"Just that he was leavin' town tonight. Didn't say where." When Jane swore under her breath, Bobby sat a little straighter, anxious to try and get on this person's good side. He had no idea what interest Jake Wyatt had in this person, but he wasn't about to ask. "I don't know if I'd take him too serious, Jake. You know how men get when they drink—liable to brag about things they ain't really done. This man, this Charles, he was probably over sixty, but he was tellin' stories about a showgirl who convinced him to come back west with her. Teresa B."

"Teresa B.? Who's she with? What group?"

"I don't know. That's all he said. Must be quite a girl to travel across the country for," he said with a weak laugh.

They both glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and saw Frost coming back holding a bag with some eggs in it. He looked quizzically at Jane, who still had a gun pointed at Bobby's seated figure. Jane impatiently holstered her gun and muttered, "Get up. Don't tell a soul that you seen me or what you done. Get outta here. If I find out anything you just told me was a lie, I'll see to it personally that you ain't fit to interact with any human being ever again."

Bobby didn't bother to point out (again) that Charles had been drunk, so holding Bobby accountable for the information wasn't entirely fair. He also didn't bother to ask how Jake would track him back down. What he did get was the feeling that he was lucky to be getting away with his life, and so sparing a glance for Frost, he scrambled to his feet and ran back to town.

"What was that?" Frost asked as soon as Bobby was a safe distance away.

"Tried to get threatening," Jane mumbled, still a little shaken and confused by that encounter. "But Frost, I think I got something. Bobby said this guy was comin' over from Pennsylvania."

"That's where—"

"I know. Apparently he left town already though, tonight. Goin' west. Don't know where exactly, though."

"By train? Coach? Horse?"

"Don't know." Jane sighed, sitting down and running a hand through her hair. "Seems all we ever hit are dead ends, Frost. But this time we're close—we're _so _close, that the dead ends feel even worse than usual!" Frost sat next to her, thoughtlessly pulling out one of the eggs and rolling it in his hand. "Frost."

"Yeah, Jane?"

She wearily pulled off the goatee, then the mustache. "You been a good partner. I think I'd have lost my mind without you these last ten years." With a bitter laugh, she carefully tucked the stage hair into her shirt pocket. "Ten years. Ten years we gave up chasin' this guy. And being this close, I don't wanna give up."

"But…?" Frost asked, sensing something in her tone.

Jane pulled her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them. "I gotta meet Maura tomorrow. I told her, I promised her I'd be there."

"You're gonna put Maura's mother's art show ahead of catching the man who killed our parents?"

"His name's Charles, if this is the man," Jane said. "And no. I ain't puttin' Maura's mother's art show ahead of him. I'm putting _Maura_ ahead of him. I'm putting my life ahead of him. But just for a few days," she clarified, looking over at Frost's bemused expression. "Jane Rizzoli never breaks a promise. Charles ain't in our territory. He ain't our responsibility. Once I get back to the Creek, though, I'm gonna be on the lookout for him. I may keep making small trips out. Sweep the area. See if I can find him. I don't expect you to come along, you made yourself pretty clear. But I got one last favor to ask ya."

"Name it."

"You're headin' back to Arizona tomorrow?"

"By horse. It'll take me a while. I reckon you'll be back before I am."

"I reckon you're right. Look into shows for me, will ya? Ones with girls, I mean. See if any troupe's got a girl named Teresa. Last name starts with a B. Apparently Charles has been following her. She might know somethin'."

"I'll keep an eye out, Jane."

She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Good man."

The next morning, they shared a silent breakfast before going their separate ways: Jane the eleven miles to Chicago, and Frost on his journey back to the Creek. As soon as he'd gone, Jane wondered if she ought to have told him what had happened with Bobby last night before Frost had shown up. During their decade of traveling together, Jane had rarely been in disguise alone. Frost was always nearby, always hovering in the background if he wasn't in on the action. In their time spent apart, she wondered if he had ever experienced something similar with another man.

_Why did Bobby say he did it? Men like him want challenges. Conquest over women ain't enough. They're passive. I suppose maybe there ain't much challenge in taking a woman. Nothing to feel superior about_. She considered how she liked feeling powerful when she was dressed as Jake, how she enjoyed defeating men who thought they were big stuff. Maybe that's all men like Bobby were interested in when it came to intimate encounters, also. _But that's not how I want it to be. If moral people wait to be married, it means that should be something about love, about respect. Passion, maybe. But not power_.

Her thoughts bogged her down so much that Jane failed to realize for quite a while just how slowly she had been going. She had come out of her reverie upon noticing how dirty her still-masculine clothes were, and she wondered whether Maura might have brought something appropriate for her to wear. In Riverside she had been able to pass for a well-dressed man, but she got the impression that Chicago would expect a bit more of her as a woman. It then finally dawned on her that she was moving her horse at a very slow clip, and with a jolt, she realized Maura's train was due at any minute and she still had miles to go. Without another thought, Jane pushed her horse into a sudden gallop, desperate only to get there as fast as possible.

When she finally reached the Chicago station, it was to see that Maura was the only remaining passenger—an attendant was hovering nearby, waiting to make sure she got off safely, and ready to arrange transportation for her if necessary. Though the trip had been an exertion on the horse and not her, Jane felt breathless as she rode up, as if she had just run ten miles. Standing against the winter morning light in a dark green dress and hat, Maura looked like a figure in a painting. Further adding to the composition were the two pieces of luggage stacked next to her, and the black muff in which she stored her hands matched the color of the familiar capelet around her neck. Jane could only smile at the sight, and sigh with relief when Maura caught her eye, looking glad and not upset.

"Maura!" Jane cried, quickly dismounting and running up to the station.

But Maura's smile faded when Jane got closer and she could see the abrasion on her cheek. "Jane! What've you gone and done to yourself?"

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, stopping almost mid-skip and frowning at the look on Maura's face.

"That cut on your cheek. You promised me you wouldn't get hurt!"

"No, I promised you I wouldn't do anything reckless," Jane patiently pointed out, taking off her hat and turning it in her hands. "Trust me, I forgot all about this already. It ain't nothin'. I'm sorry it don't look very pretty, I know. But I coulda done a lot worse. Uh…" She turned to look down at the horse she had "borrowed" from someone. "Sorry, I didn't think this through so good. I'm not sure how to get where we're going."

"That's a fair point; I didn't either," Maura said, waving her hand at the station attendant to come down. "Excuse me sir, could we trouble you for some help? We need a ride into town."

"Certainly, Miss, I'll secure a carriage for you," the attendant said cheerfully, walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Maura lowered her voice and said, "Well? Did you find him?"

Jane smiled her crooked smile and said, "Nope. Just got some more clues that'll help us out, if we want to keep lookin' for him." She laughed softly, averting her gaze. "You know, Maura, it's the darndest thing. It was always—I mean, before, when Frost and I looked, we didn't ever have nothin' to look forward to but disappointment. Anger. We wouldn't find him, and we wouldn't be no place better than when we started. Now we get our first big break in years, and I don't…" She sighed shortly, forcing herself to look Maura in the eye again. "And I ain't excited like I thought I would be. Don't get me wrong, I still wanna get him, but I guess I realized something."

"What's that?" Maura whispered.

"I guess I…I told myself comin' out here that even if we didn't find nothin', I'd still have something to look forward to. And I realized it almost didn't matter to me if I found him, because either way, this thing I was lookin' forward to meant more to me."

"The…art show?" Maura asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Jane said softly, lifting her arms in quiet supplication and taking one step closer to Maura. "This."

Maura nearly fell forward, putting her arms up and around Jane's neck as Jane's seemed to effortlessly encircle her back. There were no words to describe how right, how natural this felt. It helped Maura inexplicably feel safe and looked after, while the embrace reminded Jane of the existence of her own humanity, her own soul. They both needed this, they needed each other; of that, they were convinced.

"I missed you," Jane whispered, tightening the embrace slightly.

"I missed you, too," Maura said, her voice at a higher pitch than usual as she struggled to breathe past the emotions swelling up inside of her. The fingers of one hand fit themselves to the curve of the back of Jane's neck while the other hand gripped Jane's shoulder. With a shaky laugh, she admitted, "I was afraid you weren't going to show up, and I was heartsick at the thought."

Though Jane knew judging by her lateness that Maura had the right to have considered this a possibility, Jane said, "I told you I'd be here. I'd sooner expose Jo Friday to a fire than break a promise I made to you."

Maura laughed again and finally pulled away, as out of the corner of her eye she saw a carriage pulling up. "Well, Jane. I will never doubt you again."

Jane brushed one hand against Maura's cheek, carefully pushing a strand of thick hair out of her face. "There will never be a need."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Yes, I went there. I thought a gooey movie reference would be a nice way to reconcile our ladies after their awkward encounters during their separation. So yeah, some stuff happened in this chapter that will definitely be delved into later in more detail. Next up: Constance.


	30. Meet My Mother, Emily Post

**A/N**: So this chapter's a bit long, sorry. I really wanted to get more of Constance into it, but I couldn't help indulging in some pseudo-Rizzles stuff. I get the feeling most of you won't mind... (also, the Emily Post reference is kind of a joke. Back in the day she was a leading writer on etiquette, and well, you can see how that might be ironic in regards to Constance.)

* * *

><p>Maura had been surprised to realize that her mother's work would be exhibited in a venue she had actually visited once before with her father—Chicago was the farthest they had ever traveled for an art exhibition. Mr. Isles was wary of Maura's investment in art (lest she go the route of her mother), but she had convinced him of art's merits by introducing him to the works of Eakins, some of whose paintings existed to esteem the life of the surgeon. Four years ago they had traveled to Chicago and stayed in its finest hotel, which Maura had been pleased to learn was still thriving today. This, she informed Jane, was where they would be staying.<p>

It was not in Jane's nature to feel self-conscious, but as she assisted Maura out of their carriage, she couldn't help noticing that people seemed to be staring as they passed. Well-dressed, clean and crisp looking people who belonged in Maura's world and she in theirs. Jane couldn't really care less what they thought of her, but she didn't want to make Maura look bad by association. She kept her head down as she slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up both of Maura's suitcases, deaf to her explanations that a boy at the hotel would see to their luggage. Maura shrugged at the driver, then paid him and quickly followed Jane into the establishment.

The interior of the building was unlike anything Jane had ever seen before: cavernous, well-lit beyond reason, and immaculately clean. She glanced behind her to make sure Maura was coming, but also noticed she had tracked in quite a bit of dirt. This was also when she noticed that probably due to their embrace, she had gotten Maura's coat a bit dirty as well. Out of politeness or actual ignorance, Maura commented on neither issue, and merely smiled at Jane as she passed her to the front desk. The man standing behind it raised an eyebrow as Jane approached as well, and it was evident by the expression on his face that the dirt had not gone unnoticed by him.

"Hello!" Maura greeted him cheerfully. "I'm Dr. Maura Isles, I sent an express letter to your establishment two weeks ago regarding a room."

"Oh yes, Dr. Isles, of course," the man said slowly. "Will your companion be joining you later, or will you in fact be staying with us alone?"

Looking confused, Maura glanced at Jane, who was still holding the bags and looked a bit bedraggled. "Oh, goodness! _This _is the companion I mentioned, sir. You'll have to pardon our appearance. It's been a long trip."

"Of course. And where have you been traveling from?"

"The west," Jane gruffly replied, her rough voice clearly startling the man.

"Arizona," Maura elaborated.

"Oh. Never been out there myself. Well…" He looked down at a large book on his desk, then glancing once more at the dirtiest person who had ever set foot in his place of business, said, "If I may suggest, Miss Isles, we do have rooms available with certain accommodations which might be appealing to… weary travelers. You know. In case you would like to—ah—wash up?"

Maura narrowed her eyes, not sure if she should feel affronted by this remark or appreciate the man's offer of such nice lodgings. She stole a glance at Jane, who definitely looked as though she was insulted but unwilling to say anything. This left Maura with the task of ultimately smiling at the man. "Why, how luxurious! Lead the way."

Jane staunchly refused when a boy offered to carry the bags for her, and merely followed Maura up the same stairwell as the concierge. He led them to a nicely sized room which indeed had a very finely crafted tub sitting in one of the far corners. Before leaving, the concierge said he would send somebody up with some water. Jane waited until he left before setting down Maura's suitcases, but she didn't take off her own bag or sit. The room was too pristine, too tidy to be dirtied up.

"I hope what that man said didn't offend you," Maura said, placing her muff on one of the beds and beginning to take off her hat.

With a sheepish smile which indicated she was guilty as charged, Jane said, "Ruffled my feathers a bit, yeah, what he was gettin' at. But I don't blame him. If I ran as nice a place as this, I wouldn't even let someone who looked like me inside."

"Oh, I think I would," Maura said with a smile. "You add character." Jane chuckled politely as Maura opened her top piece of luggage. "Thank you for bringing these up, by the way. I um, I took the liberty of bringing some apparel for you."

"Probably a good idea," Jane said. "Considering…" She gestured to herself.

"I thought if you were up for it, we might try some shopping while we're here," Maura said hopefully, although the look she was receiving from Jane wasn't terribly encouraging. "I only had room to pack two ensembles for you—a dress and a more… masculine one that Adelaide and Mr. Whistler had been finishing up for you."

"Splendid," Jane sighed, walking over to look inside the suitcase. "Which should I wear to the art show? The dress?"

"Probably," Maura decided. It was a very posh venue and it wouldn't be particularly smiled upon for a woman to show up in anything else. "But I think you could wear the new slacks and shirt in front of my mother tonight, if she comes. You'll probably be more comfortable in them, and you should be as comfortable as possible when you meet her." When Jane arched an eyebrow and asked why that was, Maura quickly turned to look at her. "Not because I think she'd scare you or even intimidate you—it's just that she… well, she can have a way of inadvertently judging people. So you should be at your best when making your first impression." With a weary sigh, she went and sat on the edge of her bed. "She still hasn't quite warmed up to Garrett."

Jane could not suppress a laugh, and quickly tried to smother it when Maura frowned at her. "Sorry, that just really surprises me. What didn't she like about Mr. Fairfield?"

"It's hard to say exactly. All that was clear were her relatively negative feelings. Oh, I don't mean that hates him or hated him. She's just not as enamored with him as father is. Was."

"Um…sorry," Jane said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

Maura shrugged. "That's all right. I doubt she'd have liked anyone I might have been engaged to, just on principle."

"So it's sorta like me and Angela in reverse?" Jane offered, earning a raised eyebrow from Maura. "I mean, I'm sort of given to disliking any men Angela tries throwin' my way, just 'cause I… I don't know, I'd rather figure that all out for myself."

"Right, because it's _your _life, no matter how good Angela's intentions are," Maura said. "At least that shows she cares. I don't think my mother has the right to…" She trailed off when a knock sounded on their open door, and two rather young, intimidated-looking maids walked in with buckets of water. They silently went about the task of filling the tub as Maura turned away from Jane and undid the buttons on her lengthy gloves.

"It looks nice."

Maura (and the maids) looked up at the sudden words, which judging by Jane's stance and expression, had escaped her compulsorily. The tall brunette had her hands stuck in her back pockets, head inclined slightly downwards, embarrassed. She glanced up to look at Maura's reaction, and saw that she appeared a tad confused. Knowing she would have to explain what she meant, Jane quickly inhaled and said, "Uh… the thing from Adelaide," gesturing to her own shoulders and collar to indicate the capelet.

"You noticed," Maura said with a pleased smile, untying the ribbon on the front of the garment.

"Of course I noticed," Jane chuckled. "I'm the one who wore it first, remember?"

The maids then exited, speaking only when they were thanked, and closed the door behind them. Carefully folding the capelet and placing it on her bed, Maura said, "I shouldn't have underestimated your memory when it comes to fashion." She walked slowly towards Jane, fingering her necklace, cuing Jane's eyes to look at the jewelry. Maura had to grin as a smile of comprehension dawned on Jane's features: it was the jasper necklace she had brought Maura upon coming back from her travels the first time.

"Sorry I don't have anything for you this time around," she said only half-jokingly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Maura scolded her. "Your presence is more than enough."

Jane shrugged. "Where else would I be?"

They exchanged another nervous smile before Maura crossed the room over to the tub. "You should get in here before…" She dipped a finger carefully in the water. "Before the water gets cold. Look at these lovely towels they provided—and here's some soap, too."

"Yes, Maura, I recognize soap," Jane said sarcastically. She felt a little bad when Maura frowned over at her. "Sorry." She put her hands in her pockets and walked over, contemplating the tub with a serious look on her face. "I ain't ever used one of these before," she said, gently tapping her fist against the porcelain edge of the tub. "Nothin' nice like this. I feel kinda bad that I'll be gettin' dirt in it." She looked over at Maura, and then they both burst out laughing at the absurdity of this statement. Once the laughter had mostly subsided, Jane pointed to a nearby foreign object and asked, "What's this?"

"Oh, it's a dressing screen," Maura said, unfolding the fabric-covered panels and seeing that they were just long enough to cover the length of the tub. Once this was accomplished, she turned to Jane and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Well? Are you getting in?"

"Don't you want to use it?" Jane asked, looking unaccountably nervous.

"Thank you, but I'm fine. No offense, Jane, but you're the one who really needs it! When is the last time you were able to bathe properly?" When she received no answer except Jane taking a wary step backwards, Maura said, "Jane, what is it?" The mumbled was something like "feels funny," cuing Maura to step closer to Jane and say, "You want to make a good impression on my mother, don't you?"

"Of course," Jane scowled. (If she had been a bit more up on cultural snobbery, she probably would have made a joke about somebody from France not being able to tell the difference when someone smelled bad anyway.)

"Well then, come on," Maura said lightly. "Jane. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Jane's eyes widened at the unusual note of intimidation in Maura's voice. Her heart pumped mercilessly against her chest as Maura's fingers reached for the hem of Jane's shirt, pulling it free from the trousers it had been tucked into. Her eyes never left Jane's as her hands remained just a little too long on Jane's hips, waiting for Jane to react. Wondering just how far she could push this, Maura deftly undid the lowest button and murmured, "Well?"

Jane took a half-step back and nearly knocked over the dressing screen. "I got it," she insisted in a quiet voice. "Don't …I mean, would you mind not…" She struggled to land on the right, appropriate word, but "Watching?" was the only thing that came out.

Maura kindly decided not to tease her about it, obligingly walking to the other side of the screen to give Jane some privacy. "There's a basket here for the laundress," she said, "if you'd like to put your clothes over the top of the screen here, I'll put them in for you." It was a few moments before she got a reply: "Uh…okay." Maura patiently stood near the basket, staring at the completely opaque screen.

Whether it was conscious or just having her sense of sight stifled in this way, Maura found her ears straining to pick up the faintest sounds of whatever was happening on the other side of that screen. Taking off the shirt was a fairly quiet act, and Maura only knew it had been done when the garment appeared slung over the top of the screen. Her eyes closed as she heard Jane undoing the clasp on her belt, and a faint snapping sound indicated the button on her trousers being undone. Maura unconsciously took a step back, incidentally bumping into the table the basket was perched on—but that didn't stop her from hearing Jane sigh and pull off her boots. Normally Jane would have just kicked them impatiently off, but as this was such a nice place, thought it would be more decorous to set them delicately aside. Jane started pulling off her pants, and as Maura listened to the soft sound of the fabric going down, she was startled to realize her breathing had become slightly ragged.

"Hey, uh, Maura?"

Her eyes flew open, a marker that she was worried Jane might have somehow suddenly appeared in front of her and asked why she looked so worked up. But no, she was still behind the screen. After swallowing hard, Maura said, "Yes?" in a strangled voice.

"When you got those clothes from Adelaide, did she um… give you anything else for me?"

It took Maura a moment to collect herself and to understand exactly what Jane was talking about. "Oh, the—union suit, yes. There's a new one for you. So if you're wearing one now, we can get it washed as well."

She bit her lip as Jane's pants landed on top of the shirt that was already draped over the top of the screen. There was a long and somehow loud silence as Maura vainly tried to hear Jane unbuttoning the union suit she was currently wearing. After a few more tortuous moments of waiting, she heard a short exhale from Jane, heard one foot land as she pulled it out and put it back down on the floor a bit harder than she had intended, and then there appeared the long underwear over the top of the dressing screen. Maura only dimly registered that this very scenario was one she had envisioned when she had gotten drunk on Thanksgiving, only now it was true—Jane was completely naked, just a few feet away. She did not recall the extent of her fantasy, but felt her body reacting, and she started pacing to distract herself.

Jane rubbed her arms before stepping into the tub, and when she did, let out a surprised "Oh!"

"What is it?" Maura asked quickly.

"The water's hot."

"Oh yes, I imagined it would be. This is a very nice place, you know."

"So… people like hot water?"

"Typically they find it soothing, yes. Do you not care for it?"

"No, it's just not what I'm used to." Without thinking it might be too much information, she clarified, "I usually get clean in lake or river water. Usually pretty cold."

With a soft laugh, Maura said, "I can't bathe in cold water. It always leaves me feeling paralyzed!"

"I…don't know what that means, but it sounds bad."

Maura laughed again, not unkindly. Jane smiled to herself, loving that sound, loving the knowledge that she had caused it. That was the unexpected benefit of not being able to see Maura, but being able to hear her; Jane could focus on the lilting timbre to her voice, which sounded lovely even when she was being technical: "It means you have been brought to a condition of helpless inactivity. It comes from the pathological issue of paralysis, an impairment of voluntary movement."

Jane struggled to put it together. "So… it's as if your body just stops working?"

"Almost, yes. I was exaggerating when I used the word. People might say they are paralyzed with fear, for example, so it doesn't always have a medical explanation. You are so overcome with an emotion that it paralyzes you. You can't focus on anything else, rendering you unable to even move, beyond perhaps moving your eyes."

"Huh. Sounds bad."

Neither of them spoke again for a short while. The only sounds in the room were the occasional short splashing noises that were a result of Jane carefully washing herself. She jumped when her clothes were suddenly taken off the dressing screen, courtesy of the other woman in the room who needed something to take her mind off trying to visualize what exactly Jane looked like right now. Maura tossed the clothes into the basket, then had the presence of mind to search the pockets in case there was anything like money that Jane wouldn't want to lose.

What Maura found was worth much more than any bills she might have uncovered. In one of Jane's pants pockets there had been a folded sheet of paper that she had been unable to resist opening. Upon reading what was written there, she felt slightly justified:

"_Dear Maura – how are you? We are not doing so good. I can not sleep."_

That was all that had been written, but Maura reread it several times, adoring the careful manner Jane had used to ensure her writing was legible.

While that was going on, something dawned on Jane: "Hey, Maura? How does your mother know to meet us tonight?"

"Didn't I tell you? I received another letter a few days after the first one was forwarded to me. She said if I could make it to meet her at a restaurant next door to the gallery tonight. That is, the night before the exhibition opens. I sent an express note to the gallery telling her we would be here, but I'm not sure if she's gotten it yet."

Maura then quickly folded Jane's note and stuck it back in the pocket where she'd found it. As she busily went about unpacking, Jane was left alone to her thoughts. She still wasn't sure how playful or serious Maura had been being a few minutes ago when she told Jane they could do this "the easy way or the hard way." What exactly had she been getting at? Strangely enough, when Maura had been touching her hips, unbuttoning her shirt, Jane had been reminded of her encounter with Bobby. Embracing Maura was wonderful and beautiful and right, but those hugs had never felt intimate in the way it had when only Maura's hands had been touching her. Well, it was probably that, combined with the slightly-threatening look in those normally kind hazel eyes. It had been slightly aggressive and totally unexpected.

Jane shivered at the memory of Bobby's actions. She wanted desperately to be able to talk to someone about it, but could never bring it up to Maura. It would probably make her faint. Jane was starting to think that Bobby wouldn't have hurt her, that she probably didn't need to have been as violent as she was. A forceful "no" most likely would have sufficed …in case it wouldn't have, though, she could take care of herself. _Animals. He said we're animals, so it's not immoral. How would it even work? Men aren't made to lie together like that, just as women aren't made to lie together like that. It doesn't make any sense!_

Or did it? Much as she dressed like and frequently acted like a man, there was no way for Jane to ever really be able to inhabit a man's frame of mind. Maybe they didn't approach intimacy the same way. Maybe to them it _was _just a power play. And something Bobby said had certainly struck a chord: in her trusty disguise, Jane had been given more access to the male psyche than she would have otherwise. They had no filter around Jake Wyatt. There were types who definitely took pleasure in being all-powerful and unquestionably dominant, and Jane could imagine the women they took would be incredibly passive. But there were others who fought only for the sake of fighting, who challenged one another physically or verbally the last breath, seeming to enjoy only the struggle which made victory all the sweeter. Perhaps unbridled sex was just another facet of that.

Either way, it was a struggle for Jane to figure out why she had connected Maura's actions with Bobby. It was definitely true that Bobby had posed more of an actual dangerous threat than the petite doctor, but both of them had been trying to assert a certain level of authority over Jane. With Bobby it had been frightening and unsettling—Jane realized she had been what Maura might have called "paralyzed with fear." But when Maura had done it, she had felt paralyzed by something else… what, though? Partly nerves, partly embarrassment at being so dirty, but if she thought about it, she had felt oddly excited.

But that's why Jane Rizzoli never liked to think about things.

She glanced up when Maura slung a new set of clothes over the dressing screen, and Jane felt pressured to hurry up. There was a bowl just within reach that had been filled with water, and bracing herself, Jane grabbed it and dumped it over her head. On the other side of the room, Maura jumped at the unexpected, loud splash, but quickly guessed what it had signaled. Jane kneaded her hands through her newly wet hair, anxiously trying to get it clean. Once she figured she'd gotten it as clean as possible, she carefully got to her feet and wrung out her hair, picking up a towel on the basin to dry off.

Maura had been trying to read, but at the sound of Jane standing up, she got stuck on the same sentence, unable to concentrate. Her eyes darted upwards when she noticed the new union suit being pulled off the screen, and that's where her gaze stayed for the next few minutes as more clothing disappeared and there came the quiet but tell-tale noises of Jane getting dressed.

"What do we do with the water?" Jane asked.

"Hm? Oh, somebody will be up to empty it once we leave."

When Jane stepped into view, Maura felt her mouth fall open slightly. She managed to shut it again before Jane looked up from the buttons on her shirt cuff, but that did not keep her from continuing to stare unabashedly as Jane walked towards her, utterly unconscious of the fact that she was the most beautiful subject in this lavish room. Adelaide's black trousers fit her perfectly, as did the crisp, new white-collared shirt she was sporting. The silver belt buckle and suspenders were also back, adding another kind of polish to the newly-cleaned Jane.

"You changed," Jane said, taking in Maura's attire.

"Only the jacket. It got a bit dirty, I'm afraid."

"Sorry about that…"

"It's not a problem," Maura said quickly, going over to one of her suitcases. "Um, Jane …I'm not sure if these are something you'd need, but I made them for you."

She was holding out a pair of thinly knitted socks, black in color except for a light gray design that went down the side. Jane's gaze turned soft as she realized what Maura had done for her, and she walked forward to take the socks out of her friend's hand. Their softness made her smile as she turned them over in her hands, failing to notice that Maura was watching her with bated breath. Jane sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them on, unable to remember the last time she had even worn socks or stockings. At one rebellious point in her life she had decided she didn't need them, but now she was reveling in the soft comfort they provided to her slightly aching feet.

"Thank you," she said, lifting her head up to look at Maura.

"You like them?" Maura asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. They're the nicest present I've ever gotten." She stood up and stretched, enjoying the feel of the socks even more as she walked across the room, doing a little spin for Maura's entertainment. When she reached the saddle bag she had finally decided to hang on the dressing screen, she pulled out a pair of clean, black leather lace-up boots. As they weren't dirty, she didn't stop to think it might be indecorous to lace them up by putting her foot on the arm of a nearby chair. Maura just looked on in amusement.

When Jane had finished, Maura said, "Well, it looks as if we're probably ready to go, unless you feel there's something else you need to take care of. If I may say so, your hair is enviably relaxed."

"Yeah," Jane said with a shrug. "It just seems to fall back into place whenever I dry it."

"That's a gift," Maura chuckled. "Um—before we leave, you might want to check the clothes I put in the laundress' basket. I mean, in case you left anything in the pockets…"

Jane glanced over at the basket, a pensive look on her face. "Nope, I didn't," she finally said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. Let's go!"

"Wait—Jane! What about… I mean, you aren't wearing gloves."

Jane glanced down at her bare hands, which she normally paid such close attention to. She hadn't left a room without them covered in thirteen years. Looking back at Maura she shrugged and said, "You're right. I'm not. I suppose as we're going out, it would be the _proper _thing to do to put some on, though." She quickly crossed the room to take a pair of white gloves out of her saddlebag, then led the way to the door once again.

The gallery was only two blocks from their hotel, and they found the restaurant with relative ease. It turned out to be more of a tea shop, and though Maura offered to buy Jane a cup, she politely declined. It didn't seem terribly appealing.

"Sorry," Jane muttered after they had been there about twenty minutes.

"What for?" Maura asked, looking puzzled.

"Uh…well, people are kind of staring," Jane said quietly. It was true; they had received a number of odd looks, none of which Maura had noticed. "I think it's probably 'cause of me, 'cause I ain't dressed like a lady should be."

"Don't be ridiculous," Maura chided her. "You look perfect. You _are_ perfect."

Jane blushed and couldn't fight a grin. "You're too nice for your own good, Maura Isles."

"Not necessarily. Just honest," Maura responded with a smile.

The front doors of the establishment opened, and although a number of Chicago's finest had already passed through those same doors and situated themselves nearby, dressed in their best and posturing like they were paid to do so, Jane knew instantly that this new customer was Maura's mother. It wasn't so much that they looked alike—although in some ways, they certainly did—but there was something about the way she carried herself, walked, smiled, that seemed distinctly un-American. Not in an unpatriotic sense, but in a sense of otherness, of foreignness. She was certainly attracting plenty of attention from the other patrons, and somehow managed to acknowledge this indirectly. Though relatively slender in figure, she had the air of a large woman who enjoyed taking up the room.

Also identifying her as Maura's mother was the fact that she was the only woman who had come inside alone. She wore a fitted blue blazer that was essentially a more feminine version of the type Jane was wearing, and it matched the long skirt beneath it. A fabulous hat which could have housed an entire ecosystem was perched on top of impeccably styled auburn hair. This, combined with her ivory-colored vesper boots, really gave the impression that like her daughter, Constance Isles knew how to orchestrate a look from top-to-bottom, looking effortlessly regal. Everything about her appearance was unapologetically feminine, including the black lace jabot, which modestly covered the opening of her white silk blouse.

"That's her, isn't it?" Jane whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maura give an tiny nod. Under the table, Jane reached for Maura's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Before she could pull away, Maura briefly returned the pressure. As soon as Constance was within hearing distance, Maura stood up to greet her, and Jane followed suit. Constance was smiling, but considering how long it had taken for her to get to the States and presumably how much time had passed since she had last seen her daughter, Jane found it strange that the smile didn't quite seem to reach her dark eyes.

"Hello, mother," Maura said, almost sounding nervous.

"Hello, darling," Constance returned with a slight, inexplicable bite to her tone. She allowed Maura to lean in, giving and receiving a kiss on each cheek. She then turned her attention to Jane, not waiting to be introduced. "And unless my memory fails, this dapper being is not our Mr. Fairfield, correct? Now don't tell me, dear, don't tell me," she said, raising a hand when Jane opened her mouth to speak. "Indulge me in a guess. Are you Italian?"

Jane masked her surprise well (considerably better than Maura, anyway), and smoothly said, "American." She extended her hand, giving Constance's a rough shake. "Jane Johnson."

"Well, that _is _American, isn't it?" Constance said, raising an eyebrow but pushing the issue no further. She imperiously sat down, tacitly inviting the girls to do the same. "So! Miss Johnson. How is it you know my daughter?"

Maura stepped in to answer that one before Jane could. "Mother, do you remember how I mentioned Garrett was moving out west to make his own way, his own fortune? Well, after father passed away, I didn't feel as though there was anything left for me in Boston. So I packed up the house and moved to Hollow Creek to be with Garrett. Not to _live _with him yet, of course—"

"Of course," Constance quietly said through her toothy smile, heard only by Jane.

"—but just to be near him, you know. I thought it would be a good idea to get accustomed to the new land before I married him and inevitably wound up moving out there anyway. Plus it's been a great professional opportunity as well. A doctor in the area has been kind enough to take me on as an assistant. Anyway, Jane is a citizen of 'the Creek,' as we call it, and has been kind enough to befriend me."

"Kind indeed," Constance said, her expression frustratingly unreadable as she surveyed Jane. "Are you married, Jane? Or what is it you do?"

Casting a furtive look at Maura, Jane tried to sit straight as she replied, "Oh no, ma'am, I ain't married." Constance raised her eyebrows slightly, and Jane garnered that she found this impressive, not scandalous. Feeling emboldened by this impression, Jane continued, "I ain't educated like your daughter, but I had folks who saw to it that I understood a thing or two about our country here. Like the uh, the…" She fought to remember the word. "Constitution. In our constitution, it says how we have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Well, I figure that means it's my job to do the pursuing. So I reckon there really ain't much I _don't _do, if that answers your question."

"It's certainly enlightening, yes," Constance said. "You know, I'm very much the same way. I arrived here after touring Zagreb and London, and when I return to Europe, I will be engaged in Sicily."

"Well, it was… nice of you to find time in your busy traveling schedule to stop by the States and visit your daughter," Jane said.

The steeliness in her tone was not lost on Constance, nor was it quite lost on Maura, who was appreciative of Jane's defensiveness but also was wary of her mother being offended. "Yes, we can't wait for the show tomorrow," she said, drawing Constance's narrowed eyes away from Jane. "What exactly is the focus?"

"It should be quite interesting to see Chicago's reaction to it," Constance said, catching a waiter's eye and signaling for him to bring her some tea. "My dear, you can keep your Whistlers and your John Singer Sargents—they are lovely, but quaint. In Paris, we have been pushing artistic lines in ways you cannot imagine. The message of most of the painters in this show regards the treatment of women, which I must say is still somewhat lacking even in Europe."

"In what way?" Jane asked.

"Well, dear, I can sense your confusion, as you so clearly are interested in adhering to the societal expectations of your sex," Constance deadpanned, "but I will elaborate for you. We have not had the same doors open to us as men have. Manet can shock Paris a decade ago with a nude in the park, but even the _Salon de Refusé _will not exhibit similar works by women. It is acceptable for men to paint us nude, or for men to go backstage to paint dancers and ballerinas, but we are confined solely by our sex. Impressionism is a way to express ourselves without being too obvious—you'll see that tomorrow. Mary likes to paint more domestic scenes, but others, including myself, have taken on subjects a bit more daring. Love, for instance."

Jane leaned over, putting her elbows on the table as Constance's tea arrived. "Tell me, ma'am—"

"Oh heavens, dear, don't call me that," Constance said. "You remind me of Mr. Fairfield. You may call me Constance."

"Right. Constance. How would you define love?"

It was perhaps irrational, but Jane already disliked this woman a great deal. Deep down she knew she ought to find Constance a kindred spirit in her rebelliousness, but Jane did not appreciate the way Constance was treating her daughter—so unfamiliarly, so coldly. She wanted to force an awkward answer out of the artist, to make her feel guilty for running out on her family without a noble cause.

But Constance wasn't about to fall for that one. "Well, it's entirely subjective. What defines love for one person does not define it for another. Some of us feel bound by societal restrictions and do not dare cross them. Others are a bit more open, like myself. I have loved a great many people in a great number of ways. Love can be fleeting, or it can be eternal. Just after spending a day in this city, I have been surprised by the love I have seen expressed between female friends—it's almost romantic! These educated, professional young women who know they will never find a man willing to let them continue life in a way they would choose instead settle down with each other. Certain aspects of love are of course missing, but still. Not necessarily a bad price to pay."

"I consider myself very fortunate to have found Garrett," Maura said, not appreciating what she perceived to have been a jibe. Still, she was able to retain her polite smile and tone of voice when she added, "He respects my work and he respects me."

"Respects you _too_ much, if you ask me," Constance said. "That boy was about as light-handed as—"

In a bid for approval, Maura blurted out, "He kissed me."

Constance shot an impressed look at her daughter over her teacup, but Jane was not quite as restrained. "He _what? _He kissed you? Did he hurt you? Maura, I'll kick his ass into the—"

"Jane!" Maura gasped. "I told him he could!"

"You…you did?"

"Yes!"

"And why not?" Constance chimed in, fighting a smile at Jane's irreverent outburst. "It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Honestly, Maura, you have always been so prim. I didn't raise you to be that way. Your father—"

"My father was a great man," Maura said shortly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, instantly regretting her tone.

Constance's voice was gentle and respectful, not defensive, when she said, "I know your father was a great man."

"Yes, of course you do, I apologize," Maura said softly, looking down at the table.

"But," Constance continued, "I don't think he was as good for you as I could have been." She leaned back in her chair, and Jane got the distinct impression that Constance was disappointed in the child she had produced. "Well," she sighed. "_Je demande pardon, mais je suis très fatigué_."

Maura looked back up, and the disappointment in _her _eyes was more than clear. Turning to Jane, she explained, "She says she's sorry, but—"

"She's tired," Jane said.

"You—you speak French?"

"Nope, I read body language," Jane husked, narrowing her eyes at Constance.

"Well, I do believe every lady should be educated in at least two languages," Constance said, fearlessly returning Jane's glare. "That, Maura, is one thing your father and I _could _agree on." She got to her feet, and Maura quickly stood while Jane stubbornly remained seated. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Jane."

"You too," Jane said with a terribly fake smile.

"Don't see me out," she said to Maura. "_Bon soir!_"

Without another kiss and with no embrace, Constance turned on her heel and walked back to the door. "_Bon soir_," Maura whispered, trying to smile at her mother's retreating back and failing miserably.

As she sat back down, Jane said to her, "Well! Your mother is… very… well put together!"

"She's hard to get to know," the doctor murmured.

Jane sighed, figuring that thanks to her conduct, it would be useless to keep pretending to be polite. "I dunno, I think I got a pretty good idea." She hated to see Maura looking so downhearted, even more than she hated to think about what a lousy mother Constance seemed to be. In an effort to (again) disingenuously cheer her up, Jane said, "You know me and the boys love Angela enough to basically call her our mother. She's a good lady—but at times she could be a bit, y'know, loud, and she noses her way in where she don't belong. Like setting me up with men all the time, things like that. She's always been that way, since I was a kid! I used to dream sometimes about my mom, my real mom—I didn't hardly know her at all, but I always imagined she'd be glamorous, elegant, and educated."

"I always wished I had a mother who was a bit like Angela," Maura found herself admitting. "Warm, involved…"

"Gets pretty annoying after a while," Jane whispered, getting Maura to laugh softly. "I mean, if you'd had a mother like Angela, who knows? _You _could've wound up being the crazy woman who spent half her life dressed like a man!"

They stayed at their table another thirty minutes talking before Maura also began feeling fatigued. She had, after all, just had a very long trip and it was bound to make her tired. When they returned to their hotel room, it was to see Jane's clean clothes (and Maura's jacket) returned, and Maura slipped behind the dressing screen to take a quick sponge bath. While she was so preoccupied, Jane hurriedly pulled off her own outerwear and slipped into her bed. Maura eventually reemerged wearing a white nightgown and blew out the candle on her desk before getting under her own covers. Jane wanted to break the silence, and what she most wanted to do was ask Maura for more details about her kiss with Garrett. But she couldn't think of a good way to bring it up—and normally she wouldn't have cared, but after tonight, for some reason she wanted to treat the subject with a bit more respect. So she went for another topic instead.

"I wrote you a letter."

Maura was surprised Jane had brought it up, and was thus able to sound it when she asked, "You did? I never got it."

"That's 'cause I never sent it. I didn't get too far. It was hard, 'cause I still can't spell too good and I didn't have a lot of time, either. Plus I figured by the time I sent it, you'd be on your way to Chicago, so I might as well wait."

"Wait for what?"

"To…I dunno, to talk to you."

Maura sighed contentedly, and closing her eyes, turned over to lie on her side. "What would you have written?" she yawned.

Jane was lying on her back, and her eyes had started to adjust to the dark. She could just make out some kind of pattern on the ceiling, and tried tracing her it with her gaze as she considered how to answer. "What would I have written. Let's see. Dear Maura."

"Good start," Maura said. She smiled at the chuckle she had earned.

"Dear Maura. How're things back in the Creek? Frost and I ain't doing so good, but I guess that ain't surprising, considering how we didn't have any real leads…"

She talked a bit more about their dead ends and disappointments, and Maura's brain couldn't keep up anymore. She was listening to Jane's voice but not what she was saying; the words were still important to her, but Maura was too tired to focus on them. The low, husky quality of Jane's voice was strangely soothing, her cadence almost lyrical as she spoke. Maura drifted off almost completely—she was absorbing zero percent of the meaning of Jane's words, but with her eyes closed and face half-buried in a pillow, could fall easily asleep as Jane's voice washed over her.

"You asleep, Maura?" Jane whispered, and when she got only a faint "mm" in response, figured Maura was basically on her way out. She continued her letter: "I ain't been sleeping so good out here, Maura. I kept thinkin' of you. I would look up at the stars at night and there would be that feeling again, that feelin' of being so small. I used to like that feeling, and I guess in a way I still do, 'cause it makes me humble, but now I know how it feels to be the opposite. You make me feel _so _big. Like I'm worth somethin'. Me, not Jake Wyatt. And you don't even try." She propped herself up on her elbows to try and see Maura on the other end of the room, and her still body coupled with the lack of response had Jane convinced that the woman had finally fallen asleep.

Jane lay back down, feeling a bit uncomfortable in such a fancy bed. It wasn't what she was used to at all, but the more she stayed in it, the more she liked it. Rubbing one arm, she whispered, "I don't know what it is, Maura, but I feel something for you. I feel it so much I…" Her hand stilled on her arm. "I'm paralyzed. Sincerely yours, Jane."

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><p><strong>AN**: So yeah, I tried to cover a bit of ground here- I promise I don't actually hate Constance, and the next chapter will (like the show) hopefully leave a better impression of her. Also, John Singer Sargent was probably not a great example of an American artist Constance wouldn't have liked, because he was technically an Impressionist, just not in the sense of Monet and all those fun guys. Excuse my dorkiness- I'm a huge fan of American art in this time period, much less so Europe's. (le tumblr page has my favorite Sargent portrait on it.)


	31. Checkmate

**A/N**: Oh my gosh, you guys. I really just want to say thank you so much for the love and support you have given me in this strange AU endeavor! I can't believe this has hit over 1000 reviews. I really can't. A lot of you have commented on how swiftly I update, and a lot of that really does have to do with the fact that you review so much. It makes it so much easier to want to write! Thank you, thank you for all your kind words and constructive thoughts.  
>Also, somebody mentioned doing a <em>Titanic <em>AU... haha, to be honest, I saw that movie recently in its lovely 3D re-release, and my mind went immediately to Rizzles (as it so often does). Lower-class Jane sweeping a higher-class Maura off her feet and away from Billy Zane (I mean Garrett Fairfield). And I would change the stupid ending so she doesn't freaking get off the lifeboat so Jane could use that floating door to support herself AND LIVE. ...and now you know how that AU would go down. I don't think I'll write it because while I do think it'd be fun to write, I'd feel too confined to stick to Cameron's story, and I don't want to be confined. But never say never, I guess :) Perhaps someday, between stories... Anyway, back to this one!

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><p>The next morning, Jane and Maura set out for the gallery in their Sunday best (which, to be fair, was business as usual for at least one of them). The gallery, like everything else Jane had encountered in Chicago, was incredibly grandiose: high-ceilinged, polished almost to a fault, and utterly lavish. This all applied to the people going inside it as well, giving Jane more and more of an idea that Maura, in all her extravagant clothes and high-end accessories, was not as much of an anomaly as Jane had originally thought upon meeting her. In fact, many these patrons made Maura look almost downright modest in comparison—they were dripping with jewelry, covered with God knew how many layers of intricately detailed clothing. In a way, they didn't seem real.<p>

Before Jane and Maura could go inside, a skinny doorman stepped in front of them and somewhat pompously declared, "I'm sorry, but this is a _private _gathering."

"Oh, this is Maura Isles," Jane said, gesturing to her companion. "The daughter of one of the artists." When the man pulled out a carefully-kept list with a dramatic flourish, Jane muttered to Maura, "Really? You came here all the way from Arizona, and she couldn't be bothered to put your name on a list?"

"She's been very busy," Maura defended weakly, looking crushed. "And besides, when she added her names, she probably didn't know yet if I was coming—"

"Yeah, I don't see you," the doorman sighed.

Maura had been wondering what Jane had been keeping in the small beaded hand-purse tied around her wrist, and in retrospect, she figured she ought not to have been surprised when Jane pulled out a tiny, double-barreled pistol. Its size was such that it was nearly invisible in her hand when she took an aggressive step towards the doorman and snarled, "See me now?"

The man nearly dropped his list in fright. He shot a startled glance at Maura, who said in alarm to Jane, "You're going to get us thrown in jail!"

"No I'm not," Jane said confidently, smirking and keeping her eyes on the doorman's. "Our friend here knows if he keeps his mouth shut, he won't have nothin' to worry about. Will he?" After a few more moments of getting stared down, the doorman heard a faint growling sound. He glanced around for a dog before realizing the noise was coming from behind Jane's clenched teeth. When this struck him, he quickly jumped aside, just as some more guests were beginning to arrive. "Thank you," Jane mouthed at him, pretending to smile sweetly as she stowed the pistol back into her purse and gently led Maura inside.

Torn between anxious exasperation and grateful adoration, Maura whispered, "Was that really necessary?"

"He made it so, yeah," Jane said smugly. "Just 'cause I'm wearing a dress don't mean I'm about to roll over for a man."

"I would expect nothing less from you," Maura sighed affectionately.

And there again was that bashful smile that only Maura got to see. But it faded when they reached the first of Constance's paintings in the gallery, and it was one of her more abstract pieces. "_That's_ art?" Jane groaned.

"Of course," Maura said, peering closer at the work. "It appears to be a commentary on the objectification of the female form."

"_I _could do that," Jane snorted, gesturing at the work.

"Yes, but then it wouldn't be art," Maura explained.

"You confuse me with a good point," Jane mused slowly.

Maura smiled cheekily, and asked in a playful tone, "How would you know, anyway? You told me you've never been to an art exhibition before."

"Not an exhibition, no. But I have seen art before, in houses and places like that. Nice ones, I mean. And this," she said with a broad gesticulation, "this ain't art."

"Careful, Jane, talk like that will get us kicked out of here faster than pulling a gun."

Jane never got a chance to respond to the quip, because they were then accosted by a beaming, again impeccably-dressed Constance. "Hello, darling, I'm so glad you could be here!" she gushed, pulling Maura in for a kiss to the cheek. Unlike last night, her present state of enthusiasm seemed genuine—perhaps, Jane cynically thought, because this day was about her and her artistic achievements. Jane's annoyance was far from lost on Maura's mother, whose smile became a little more forced when she said, "So nice to see _you _again, Jane."

"Yes, well, sorry if our presence is a little disruptive," Jane said with a fake smile. "Your daughter's name wasn't on the list."

Looking remorseful, Constance instantly apologized. Maura simply waved her hand and smoothly changed the subject in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "We were just admiring this piece. It's exquisite, mother. It's both witty, and… full of pathos!"

Constance was not shy about admiring her own hard work. "It is, isn't it?" she said softly, proudly. "Can you see where I got some of my influence?"

Jane personally found it much more interesting to study Maura's adorably contemplative expression than the painting itself. Her face was scrunched up slightly as she dared take another step closer to the piece, her lips briefly pursing together. "I see …a bit of Renoir?" she finally guessed, earning a small nod. "Yes—but mother, it also stands completely on its own."

"Yes, yes it does," Jane said, a little too pugnaciously to be sincere. This earned her a soft warning look from Maura that went ignored, and a raised eyebrow from Constance.

In fact Maura was about to question Jane's impoliteness when she noticed a familiar cluster over Jane's shoulder. "Mother! Is that—?"

"Yes, dear, I asked the Davises if they wouldn't mind coming down, and they were kind enough to do so. One of the only families in Boston who hasn't entirely renounced my existence, I daresay."

"Old friends?" Jane asked. "Why don't you go catch up with them, Maura? I'd _love _to have a chance to talk with your mother some more."

Maura looked a little wary, but after a nod of encouragement from Constance, smiled and excused herself to go speak with the Davises. Constance was way too intrigued by what Jane wanted to discuss to let this opportunity slip by, but as Jane just continued to give her that imitation of a smile, she knew she'd have to be the one to start things off. "_Nice _of you to come," she said.

"Thank you," Jane said, folding her hands in front of her and taking a few steps over to Constance's next work. "_Love _your blotchy… seascape women." (It was actually an Impressionist depiction of people inside a circus tent watching a trapeze artist.)

Constance was either smiling or smirking; it was hard to tell. "I can see why Maura likes you." She noted Jane's slightly widened eyes, but could not perceive the quickening heartbeat that was so subtle, Jane herself hardly noticed it. "You're direct," Constance explained. "Not like most Americans. It's kind of refreshing."

"I'm protective," Jane clarified. "Maura's my best friend."

"I sense that there's something you'd like to say to me," Constance observed.

"Yeah. There is." Jane glanced over at Maura, who was animatedly engaged in conversation with the family from Boston, the scared-rabbit look gone from her eyes now that she was not in her mother's direct presence. "I don't like seein' my best friend hurt."

Jane was honestly somewhat taken aback by the surprised tone in Constance's voice when she asked, "You think _I _hurt her?"

"Not staying in the same place as her, not even takin' a meal with her, forgetting to put her on the guest list of your exhibition?" Jane stated incredulously. "Yeah, I think that hurts her."

"She has her own life and her own circle," Constance said in a rather serious tone. "I know that Maura never enjoyed her visits to me, Jane. She is a professional working in the new frontier, worlds away from me. I only sent her a letter about this gallery because it didn't feel right not to—I don't want to be in her way." Her eyes narrowed when Jane's look of disbelief failed to fade. "She must know how proud I am of her," Constance said quietly, trying to convince herself of it as much as she was trying to convince Jane. "How much I love her."

"Not really the signals you're sending," Jane said back, fighting to keep her voice level. It looked like Constance had no way to repudiate this, spurring Jane on: "It sounds to me like you were too busy when she was growin' up, and now you're blamin' _her _for bein' too busy, what—?" Her dark eyes searched Constance's for some kind of explanation, some sort of excuse. She'd take anything at this point, and found her anger slowly building as Constance just stood there, albeit looking pretty cowed. "Do you have any idea how truly incredible your daughter really is?" Jane asked. "She's amazing, but you treat her with less admiration than your own artwork! Do you know her at all? Do you know what color her eyes are, do you know her favorite song, her favorite book?"

Finally, Jane seemed to have broken the woman: Constance looked sufficiently humbled, her defenses down. "I was n—I was never any good at it," she conceded in a trembling voice.

"At what?" Jane asked.

"Being a mother," Constance whispered mournfully. "I didn't—it wasn't the life I had planned out, Jane, and I realize how utterly selfish that makes me sound. But I knew. I _knew _I wouldn't be any good, that's why I left Maura with her father. I know she deserves better than me, and I know how hard it was for her father to decide to send her to see me. Jane, you must understand. I didn't want to raise a daughter in Boston."

"Why not?"

"I thought she would be ostracized, like I was, if she were to deviate at all from what was expected of her. I know her father resented my reputation on some level, and that it would be easier for him to raise her the way he wanted if I were out of the picture. I'm glad she's found someone like you, Jane. You don't strike me as being similar to those girls who called themselves her friends in Boston, or even young Mr. Fairfield. Obsequious to a fault, too prim, too polite. I'm afraid Maura must have been terribly confused growing up—her father wanted her to be a lady, and I wanted her to be a tiger. That's why…" Constance took a shaky breath, and for a moment, Jane was worried she was about to cry. But the woman managed to hold it in. "She would stay with me in Paris, then I would send her on her own to other countries. Part of it was my anxiety at being unable to mother her correctly, but I also wanted her to learn how to stand up for herself, how to get her own ideas and opinions instead of just mine. I wanted her to learn how to be self-reliant. You know, that's one thing some Americans have gotten right—I don't suppose you're familiar with Emerson's musings on self-reliance?"

"Er…no."

"Well anyway, that's what I wanted for Maura," Constance sighed. "I didn't want her to grow up doing only what her father told her to do until she got married and then doing whatever Mr. Fairfield told her to do."

Jane stole another glance at Maura, checking to make sure she was still distracted. "If it makes you feel any better, Maura _is _independent and makes her own choices. But she's still a mighty refined lady."

"I curse myself for thinking they were mutually exclusive," Constance said. "And I hate having to think that I may have made her feel as though they couldn't be reconciled. I just …I missed out on so much!"

"Then why don't you just tell her that?" Jane asked plaintively. But Constance was looking at someone over Jane's shoulder, and Jane turned to see the skinny doorman wringing his hands and looking nervous. "Can we help you?" Jane asked through her teeth.

"Madame, some of our patrons were wondering if you could join the other artists to address some questions," he said hurriedly.

Constance raised her eyebrows at Jane as if to say "what can I do?", and quickly excused herself to go follow the doorman. Jane watched her go, then shook her head and gazed at some of the rest of the art in the room. _What am I doing? I don't want to look at this stuff. Not alone, anyway_. Her eyes landed on Maura again, and for nearly a full minute, she just remained standing where she was, looking only at her friend.

Whether Maura was conscious of it or not, she was starting to look a little weary, and Jane wondered how much she had really liked this family. There were two parents and a son and daughter, the girl probably around twelve and the boy closer to Maura's age. He looked as though he were talking to Maura with the sole purpose of impressing her, apparently completely ignorant of the engagement ring on her finger (_Don't know how he could miss it_, Jane thought sourly. _It's practically the size of a melon!_) At this point, she could tell Maura was humoring them. It would have escaped Jane's notice if she hadn't spent so much time in the past few weeks studying Maura's expressions, unconsciously memorizing the subtle differences between so many of them. After a while, she decided it would be stupid to wait any longer, as she was sure Maura would rather be with her, and was sure as _hell _that she herself would rather be with Maura right now. So she took it upon herself to walk over, and when she got close, Maura looked up and appearing relieved, waved her over.

"Jane! I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Donald Davis," she said, casually linking her arm through Jane's. "And their son Paul, and daughter Loretta. Davis family, this is my friend Jane Johnson."

"Pleasure," Jane said, allowing her hand to be kissed by the men in the family.

"So are you a friend from the wild west?" Mr. Davis chortled. "Sounds like a fantastically rustic life you've got going on out there!"

Paul cut in before Jane could respond to this. "I was just saying how much I love to travel, and how nice it could be to visit the west someday. Actually I just got back from a trip around Europe!"

"His second," Mrs. Davis proudly said.

"Everyone should go at least once," Paul laughed. "It was exhilarating! Have you ever had the pleasure, Miss Johnson?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Ah! What a shame, a shame indeed. The last time I went to Europe, I stayed mostly around the England and France area—spending some time with Maura and her impressively knowledgeable mother," Paul said, grinning at Maura. "And this time around I had the opportunity to visit Italy!"

"Oh, he speaks _wonderful _Italian!" gushed Mrs. Davis. "Go on, Pauley, say something!"

"I already have!" he chuckled, pretending to be embarrassed.

"Only for Maura, though, go on! Show off a bit to Miss Johnson!"

Mr. Davis and Loretta rolled their eyes at each other as Paul cleared his throat, puffed out his chest and haltingly said "_L'Italia è bella e ama l'arte!_" His accent was atrocious enough, but he had also committed the terrible crime of saying something completely inane as well ("Italy is beautiful and I love art!")

"Wasn't that wonderful?" Mrs. Davis asked the girls excitedly before turning back to her son. "I'm sure you must have been mistaken for a native over there all the time!"

Jane and Maura looked at each other, the latter wondering if Jane had been able to tell how truly terrible the boy's Italian had been. As if recognizing this, Jane turned back to the Davises and said, "Yes, I'm sure. Anyway, _questo è molto bello, ma il suo accento è terribile e dobbiamo andare. Mi dispiace. Addio!_" And with that, she used their interlocked arms to turn herself and Maura around, walking down to the other end of the room.

"Jane!" Maura gasped.

"What?" Jane asked, worrying that she was about to get called out for being rude.

Maura came to a stop, halting their progress, and gaped wordlessly at Jane. "How did—how—you—you just spoke perfect Italian!"

"Did I?" Jane said, about to be grateful that she was profoundly better at lying that Maura allegedly was. "Yes, well, when I was talking to your mother, she mentioned that while she was grateful the Davises respected her enough to come down for this show, she thought they could be a bit insufferable now and then. Particularly in regards to their son, who had just been to Italy and wanted everyone to know it."

"So…my mother taught you a phrase to speak to him?"

Jane chuckled. "Yeah. Told you I learned things fast."

"No, Jane. Your accent was far too good, and you spoke it too quickly to have just learned it."

_Hm, maybe I'm pushing this_. "Okay, okay. Angela's parents were Italian. So they taught her some, and she taught me a bit growin' up." This was true, but Jane wasn't sure why she was so hesitant to tell Maura of her own heritage. It still just felt strange to share details about her murdered parents and what they had passed on, regardless of how long ago it had been and how much she felt like she should be able to confide in Maura. She was a bit surprised to realize how effortlessly the words had rolled off her tongue, considering she hadn't spoken more than five words of Italian in fifteen years. "So I sounded okay, huh?"

"I'll say!" Maura laughed. "What did you tell him?"

"I'm pretty sure I told him his accent was terrible and that I was sorry, but we had to get moving."

"You did not!" Maura cried, though she looked highly amused as she gave Jane's shoulder a light slap. "Oh, you're wicked!"

"Yes, it's just one of the many things about me you'll have to expect."

Maura could only shake her head and smile, knowing on some level that there really was nobody she would rather be here with. Even if Jane rolled her eyes at a majority of the art, she kept up asking Maura to explain the works and interpret them. In a way, that made Maura just appreciate them all the more, and occasionally she got Jane to appreciate them as well. When they reached the end of the gallery, Jane noticed Maura was moving more and more slowly, and she got the distinct impression that it was because the doctor was holding out the hope that her mother might make another appearance.

They had both stopped looking at the art: Maura was scanning the room for all signs of movement, desperately searching out her mother. Jane had fixed her gaze on a pair of young women who were walking hand-in-hand down the hall, leaning close to whisper things in each other's ears, laughing. One kissed the other on the cheek. Jane's eyes darted to the surrounding crowd, but nobody else was paying the girls any mind. And why should they? There was nothing wrong, nothing scandalous about them. They well may have been the girls Constance had mentioned yesterday, friends so close that they chose to live together rather than be married. It was sweet, really. It showed quite a level of devotion.

When it finally seemed time for Jane and Maura to leave, Constance almost magically appeared in front of them. "You weren't leaving without saying goodbye, were you?" she asked.

"We couldn't find you," Maura said, beyond ecstatic that her mother had come to locate her.

"Dear, when are you leaving Chicago?"

"Our train departs the day after tomorrow."

"That soon? Oh dear. Perhaps it's just as well—I'll be leaving for Charlotte in two days. What are your plans for tomorrow?"

Maura glanced at Jane, who just shrugged at her. "Well, we haven't any, really—"

"Perfect!" Constance laughed, placing her hands on her slightly-startled daughter's shoulders. "Let's all spend it together! I'm sorry to say that I will be utterly tied up today, but tomorrow I shall insist upon being free—free as a bird."

Looking somewhat overwhelmed by this sudden invitation to spend time together, Maura said, "I don't want to inconvenience you, mother—"

"Maura, don't be ridiculous. _You _are the one who was inconvenienced, coming all the way out here just to see this show—"

"Well, you know I love your art, mother! And besides, I—"

"All right!" Jane cut in loudly. "Yes! Maura, I believe the appropriate response here would be 'why yes, mother, tomorrow would be perfect!' And then Constance, you could possibly say, 'Oh, how thrilling that you agree! Shall we meet for breakfast at that cozy place where we met last night?' And then _I _would say 'certainly, so long as they serve things in addition to tea.'"

The Isles women both smiled at Jane, and Maura said, "Why yes, mother, tomorrow would be perfect."

"Oh, how thrilling that you agree," Constance said, her smile finally reaching her eyes. "Shall we meet for breakfast at that cozy place where we met last night? Jane, I know for a fact that they do serve rather excellent food in the morning."

"Wonderful. We'll see you then," Jane said.

Constance leaned in to give her daughter one more kiss to the cheek before hurrying off to attend to something. Jane's heart swelled at the sight of Maura's face being barely able to contain her wide grin.

"Gosh Maura, I wish I had a mirror for ya," Jane said, chuckling at the sight of Maura's unabashed smile.

"Why?"

"So you could see the prettiest piece of art in here."

* * *

><p>They left the gallery shortly thereafter and set out to explore the city. Jane had never seen anything quite like it: Chicago was busy and big, the opposite of Hollow Creek in every way. Buildings climbed up more than five stories, store windows were filled with endless rows of beautifully tailored clothes, and every now and then they passed a fountain which existed only for the sake of civic virtue. <em>No wonder people here would put on a show of paintings like Constance's<em>, Jane thought. _They see art in everything_. The most basic utilitarian things like buildings and even water had been turned into something artistic.

Jane declined the invitation to go shopping for clothes, but allowed Maura to badger her into getting the split ends of her hair cut. It was a very awkward and squeamish experience for Jane, but her discomfort seemed a small price to pay for Maura's giddiness. The woman was so pleased about her mother; Jane wanted to do as much as she could to help keep up that buoyant attitude. She even let Maura take her to be fitted for some new shoes to make up for not wanting to buy a new dress.

Maura wound up buying quite a bit, and after a while, they returned to their hotel room to stow their new bags. Then it was off to a nearby public park where patches of snow dotted the landscape, with a new picnic basket for an early dinner, and Maura's worn copy of _Little Women_. Jane wanted to get in some more practice with her reading, and Maura's favorite book was as good a place as any to give it a shot. It was a good thing Maura possessed plenty of God-given patience, because it took over an hour to get through the remaining pages of the chapter Maura had been on. Most of that was because of Jane's struggle to read, but they also paused occasionally to discuss the content of the chapter: Jo having a heart-to-heart with her mother, no holds barred. Jane couldn't help wondering if the reason Maura loved this book so much was because it offered an exemplary mother-daughter relationship, one she yearned to have.

Being so invested in what they were doing, neither of them even really noticed how cold they were getting. Jane had taken off her gloves to turn the pages, and it was only when her fingers got too numb to do so that they decided to pack it in. It had become dark outside anyway, heralding their return to their hotel. They fell back into the routine they'd gotten down last night, where Maura disappeared behind the dressing screen to sponge herself off and Jane stripped down to her union suit and slipped into her bed.

"So what do you think of the windy city?" Maura asked as she pulled up her hair.

"It's might pretty," Jane said, putting her hands behind her head and lacing her fingers together, staring up at the ceiling. "But they ain't got what we got—back in the Creek, I mean."

Maura found herself strangely relieved to hear this. She had worried that being in a place like Chicago would make Jane feel self-conscious, maybe even bad about where she'd come from. But then she figured that in her travels with Frost, Jane had probably come up across plenty of nice towns and fancy people (perhaps just not quite of the same caliber as Chicago). Still, she felt a little bad for having dragged Jane her mother's art gallery: "So you haven't had a miserable time?"

There was a noticeable pause before Jane answered, and Maura attributed it to time for thinking. It was actually because she had let her dress fall to the floor with a quiet _thup_, and Jane was straining her ears to hear Maura step out of it. When she finally realized how long of a silence had passed, Jane quickly said, "No, I ain't been miserable! Not at all. I mean I was already out here on… business, but it was nice to get a chance to be away and be myself."

"So Chicago's a nice place, but you wouldn't want to live here?" Maura clarified, pulling out her nightdress.

"Right," Jane chuckled. "I wouldn't swap half of the Creek for all of Illinois."

In all honesty, Jane had always loved Hollow Creek, but never enough to keep her from exploring the world beyond it. She loved the freedom that came with wide open spaces and no expectations, no ties to anyone, but this trip had been so hard on her until Maura had come. Maybe she was getting old. Maybe she really _did _love that silly small town more than she'd let herself believe in the past—maybe it was easier to leave it thinking that. Or maybe she had just never appreciated it until Maura Isles had come to stay.

Her eyes followed Maura as the woman stepped out and walked over to her own bed. Normally the concierge would have put two women in a room with one large bed, but this had been the only room available with a tub that Jane had so sorely needed. So when Maura blew out her candle, they were lying in near-darkness on opposite sides of the modestly-sized room, both a little more awake than they had been last night.

After an excruciatingly long silence, Jane asked, "Maura?"

"Yes?"

"Could I…could I ask you something? Without you getting mad?" Not having to look directly at Maura was giving Jane a bit more courage to bring this up than she might have otherwise had.

Like Jane, Maura was staring up at the ceiling. "Certainly. You can ask me, but I might not tell you."

"Fair enough." She swallowed hard, knowing she had to continue now that she had brought it up. "You said, um… yesterday you said you let Mr. Fairfield kiss you."

Such a long pause followed this declaration that Maura mistakenly assumed Jane was waiting for a confirmation. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I did."

Jane exhaled sharply, and she wasn't sure why. _Did he ask you first, or did you tell him to? How long did it last? How'd it come up? Are you sorry you did it? Are you glad? Did you kiss more than once? Are you going to keep kissing, or wait until you get married? _"How…" She cleared her throat, fighting to land on the right question, the right wording. "How… come?" _Yes, that sounded really intelligent, Rizzoli_.

It was a while before Maura answered, mostly because it was hard to explain even to herself. "I wanted to," she answered simply. "And it didn't seem wrong anymore. Garrett had injured himself—not terribly, mind you—and I asked to treat his wound. So I had him remove his shirt—"

Jane's first impulse upon visualizing this image was to jump up in alarm, but she fought it and was able to merely roll onto her side (although in a slightly violent manner which still went unnoticed by Maura). An odd, strangled half-laugh came out of her to cover the sound of shock that had been trying to claw its way up her throat.

"You kissed him when he was only half-dressed?" she gasped, and in the dark, Maura could mistake her tone for one of impressed jubilance, not forced amusement. "Well, well!"

"It was completely innocent," Maura insisted. Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, "Although I admit, he had quite an aesthetically pleasing body."

"Meaning…"

"It was—well, nice to look at," Maura explained, thankful that Jane couldn't see her blush. "He was very well-developed, I must say. I had seen some patients at my father's hospital, but only the older ones. Never any men close to my age, at the peak of their physical perfection."

"So he looked good, huh?" Jane asked, a bit startled with how fiercely her heart was pounding. _Why do I suddenly want to punch Garrett Fairfield in the face? He didn't try taking advantage of her or anything_…

"Yes, he did."

But Maura's tone had been a bit wistful, cuing Jane to wonder what was wrong. "So… how was the kiss?"

Maura frowned and furrowed her brow, again needing time to think. "It was… well, I don't know. Nice because I love Garrett, and because he treated me so well with it. He didn't try to press his advantage, I mean. But at the same time, it…" _I know what you meant now, about not feeling everything you thought you would. _"Well, I don't like to make judgments based on things I have experienced only once."

"So you'll kiss him again? Before you get married, I mean?"

"Possibly." Starting to feel uncomfortable, Maura said, "What about you, Jane? Who was your first kiss, and what was it like?"

Jane snorted a laugh into her pillow. "Oh, boy. Casey Jones. I was fifteen years old." She turned onto her back again, a reminiscent sigh issuing out of her. "He treated me the way I wanted to be treated—I mean, he didn't care that I was girl, he'd treat me like one of the boys. And he respected that, I think. He was a little reckless, too, which I guess explains why he kissed me. It was at my house in the back yard, under the moon. We both wanted to find out what it'd feel like."

"And?"

"It was nice, I guess. We kissed quite a lot, actually—just not that night. One of the neighbor's pigs got loose and chased Casey half way across town!" Jane laughed. "And then—well, when we were eighteen, he lost his Pop and decided to move to Virginia to be with a brother who'd gone out there. We sorta lost touch after that, on account of my being gone all the time." She sighed again, and this time it was a little less happy sounding. "I still don't think I'd like to be married, Maura. But I do sometimes think it must be nice knowin' the person you've got will be the first _and _the last person you ever kiss. Like you and Mr. Fairfield, I mean."

Though the inklings of awareness were starting to seep in, neither Jane nor Maura yet fully realized that the person who would be the last for each of them was not over a thousand miles away in Virginia or Arizona—it was a much smaller distance of approximately eight feet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Quick, curious question- would it be too laughably cheesy/silly to have Jane serenade Maura in Italian at some point? Because I really kind of want to write that, haha.  
>On another note, I'm just curious about what has drawn people to this story. I'm kind of surprised I wrote it, because I don't actually love westerns that much. I went through a phase a few months ago where I was trying to watch a lot, but I just couldn't get into the genre as much I as I initially expected. That said, <em>Stagecoach <em>is my new favorite and I will always, always have a soft spot for Doris Day's _Calamity Jane_! (Which yes, got some references in this chapter.) Any suggestions for western movies to check out?


	32. Suitable Life Partners

**A/N**: Oh my gosh, you guys. Thank you so much for all those wonderful responses. It was beyond gratifying to hear what drew you to this story and has kept you here! It sounds like the western thing is what attracted some of you, while it's what kept a few at bay initially, haha. I totally understand that. To address some general comments/questions: I don't speak Italian, but I've grown up surrounded _by_ Italians, which is part of the reason why I love this show- I know about eighty women like Angela Rizzoli (and fifty more like Sophia Petrillo). There have been many lovely suggestions for a first kiss between these two, but rest assured I already know exactly how I want that kiss to come about. What I can't say for sure is _when _it will happen. Sooner rather than later? Also, in terms of being historically accurate, I know there's plenty I've screwed up (like how train schedules would have worked/their frequency). Other things I look up because I think it's interesting. So there's that!  
>Thank you for your reviews and thank you for sharing this story with other people. The feedback is so great to read!<br>(oh, and in terms of references: this chapter is brought to you by - once again - Louisa May Alcott, Auntie Mame, and even a certain frizzy-haired ginger teacher of elementary school children. Happy reading!)

* * *

><p>The next day, Jane was back in her comfort zone clothing-wise when they went to meet Constance for breakfast. Jane was relatively silent, content to observe Maura and her mother's interactions. Their conversation was peppered with the occasional French, but Jane was still able to understand their relationship for the most part: Constance was an important person and not bashful about considering herself one. Maura was a bit ingratiating, desperate to please, and it seemed Constance was only just starting to realize the depths of that desperation. Even though Jane didn't say much, her presence was very keenly felt—Constance couldn't get their conversation from yesterday out of her head. She really did need to start being more appreciative of the daughter she had.<p>

"Darling, I know this isn't an admirable thing," Constance said, as they left breakfast. "But I'm going to try my hardest to make this trip worth your while at least for today."

"It's already been, mother, with your show," Maura insisted.

"Well, worth it for Jane then, anyway," Constance said. "I think there are a number of things in Chicago she might find far more interesting than the exhibition."

"Gosh, Constance, I'd love to see ya try," Jane joked.

"Oh look, a cigar store!" Constance said, instantly drawing Jane's attention. She turned to her daughter and asked, "Do you think Garrett might like some?"

"Well, I've already gotten him quite a sizeable box recently… although I suppose there's no such thing as too many cig—"

Constance cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand. "I don't want to get him something he's already got from you. What about you, Jane, do you smoke?"

"Yes," Jane said, startled into the truth by the unexpected abruptness of Constance's question.

"Excellent! I'll buy _you_ some, then."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Jane quickly said, but Constance had already walked into the shop.

"She won't listen to you," Maura explained, following her mother and smiling at Jane's dumbfounded expression. "She's going to have her way."

When they got inside, they saw that Constance was already talking to a clerk about getting the nicest box of cigars available. "Oh, would you look at that!" she gushed when he handed her an oak-colored humidor. "Gorgeous, just gorgeous! Almost a work of art in itself, wouldn't you agree, Maura?"

"It certainly has been crafted nicely," Maura said.

"Constance, I can't let ya buy those for me," Jane said, putting her hands in her pockets and feeling supremely awkward. "They're too expensive."

"Nonsense, dear. Consider it an Christmas present."

"Gosh—no, please—" Jane already felt bad enough accepting a train ticket back to Arizona from Maura as a Christmas gift; she didn't need Maura's mother dishing out, too. "I couldn't give you anything back."

"You're keeping my daughter safe on her return trip to Arizona. Trust me, dear, guaranteeing a daughter's safety is always the best gift a person can give to a mother."

Jane and Maura both raised their eyebrows at this unexpectedly sentimental, maternal expression, and while they were distracted, Constance purchased the humidor. Before Jane could even formulate another argument, Constance had pressed it into her hands and said in no uncertain terms that she did not want to hear another word about it. As they walked back outside, the cynical part of Jane couldn't help wondering whether Constance was trying to buy her affection, but that idea quickly left her. She owed it to the woman to give her the benefit of the doubt.

The gallery owner had commissioned a carriage to take Constance and her guests around, giving them the grand tour of Chicago. As the day progressed, Jane noticed a relaxation between Constance and Maura: they conversing more easily, exchanged thoughts more evenly; it was no longer just Constance talking at her daughter. Maura was getting more of a chance to talk about herself, her life, her work. And Jane could see pride reflected in Constance's eyes.

One ride along the (slightly icy) Chicago River, one exciting trip to a decorous racetrack, and three dress shops later, dinnertime called. The women returned to the family who had been gracious enough to host Constance, where they were treated to a top-notch, three-course meal. The family had three children, all of whom were inexplicably enamored with Jane. It took her a while to warm up to them and not be so flustered, but after dinner was over, she was to be found in the sitting room playing marbles with the boys and, when it wasn't her turn, showing the girl how to spin a top for maximum speed.

The host family had declined the Isles' offers to help clean up, leaving Maura to watch Jane and Constance to watch her daughter watching Jane. Although Maura had been smiling all day, and had in fact looked thrilled all yesterday as well, Constance's artistic eye picked up a subtle difference in the happy look on her daughter's face at this moment.

"So tell me again how you met Jane," she said, drawing Maura's attention back to her.

"She… I was getting a ride from the train station in Mesa to Hollow Creek, and… she needed transportation there, so… so she joined me in the carriage." _Not bad, Maura! _"Her family lives there. Her brothers, I mean."

"She cares about you very much." Maura was smiling, but looked politely confused.

Constance decided not to elaborate, and after a few moments, Maura resumed watching Jane with the children. She would never fully know why Constance had warmed up to Jane so fast and disliked Garrett so quickly: he had never given her any inclination that he thought her daughter was worth something. Perhaps it was because it was a negative trait Constance knew she possessed herself that she was sensitive to observing it in others, but she knew Garrett had been trying too hard to impress her. He had gone on about himself, his accomplishments. He had tripped over himself being sycophantic in his responses to Constance's questions and comments, which might have been a fine bid for approval from ladies in Boston, but not for Constance Isles.

Jane took charge. She hadn't cared what Constance thought of her so long as she thought the result would be better treatment for Maura. She didn't tell Constance what she thought the woman wanted to hear; she spoke her mind, and unapologetically at that. It really _was _refreshing.

_Oh, Maura. I wish you could find a man like that. _

* * *

><p>The next morning was a bit rushed as Jane and Maura packed their things to make their train in time. Constance had brought them a fresh loaf of bread from the family she was staying with as they rode to the station together. This whole trip had been a blur, an emotionally overwhelming blur, and its abrupt conclusion had come too fast. A porter came over to take their luggage, and Jane held out her hand for Constance.<p>

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Jane," the artist said.

"Likewise, Constance."

"It's nice to know my daughter's in good hands."

"Well, she's got a good head on her shoulders. That helps," Jane teased, giving Maura a slight nudge with her elbow. "I'll let you two have your goodbyes." She turned and didn't bother asking when she would see Constance again—she just assumed it would never happen.

Once Jane was out of earshot, Maura said, "I'm so glad you wrote to me, mother."

"It was nice to be back in the states again!" Constance laughed. "I wish I had visited you here more."

"Do you really?" Maura asked. "I hope you'll come again! Even if you haven't a show to put on, although this one really was incredible. Your musings on love and all that. Although… I'm not sure I understand it entirely."

"Understand what, dear?"

"What you think it is, what you think love is," Maura said quietly, bashfully. Years of experience had taught her to be wary of asking her mother direct questions about sentimental things, but after what had happened with Garrett—that kiss—she felt the need to throw caution to the winds and ask this. "Did you love Desmond Isles?"

Constance did not hesitate in her answer: "Yes, Maura, I did." She sensed hurt and betrayal flashing through Maura's eyes, which narrowed suspiciously before comprehension dawned there, prompting Constance to add, "I loved him like you might a cousin. A _distant_ cousin."

"You weren't _in _love with him," Maura clarified.

With a deep sigh, Constance whispered, "There's the rub."

"What's the difference?" Maura asked, not wanting to make Constance feel bad but just to understand. "How do you—I mean, have you ever been in love?"

It was a few moments before Constance answered, staring at something nondescript over her daughter's shoulder. "Yes, I have been in love," she said, her voice strangely flat.

"How did you know?"

"My dear, it's like the works in the gallery—it's different for everyone," she answered. But seeing the anxious look on Maura's face, she felt compelled to elaborate. "It's… ineffable, really. You cannot imagine life without this person, because …not because of necessity or obligation, but because you think he holds the key to your happiness. Your life, your protection. Being with him feels like being home. When he touches you, kisses you…" She sighed and offered Maura a gentle shrug. "The rest of the world falls away." Constance now detected a trace of concern in Maura's eyes, and she suddenly remembered her saying that Garrett had kissed her. "That won't do for you, will it, Maura? You cannot accept fully the answer of an artist when you are the type who likes precise, specific responses. I'm afraid I can't help you, not really."

"Yes you can," Maura urged desperately, her head full of conversations between Jo and Marmee. "You're my mother."

Constance surveyed her carefully. It was truly somewhat miraculous that Maura had never abandoned her, never renounced her. All she wanted was a little help, a nudge in the right direction. She deserved it. So finally, Constance tried again:

"Part of the inspiration for my style of art is the notion that the act of falling in love may be gradual, but I am willing to bet the realization will strike you suddenly," she said. "When it does, Maura, don't be afraid. Don't be afraid of it—I worry that's something you may wind up inheriting from your parents."

"What, fear?"

"Yes. Maura, I know I must seem to have always been as I am now, as I was during much of your childhood—confident, fearless." Smiling ruefully, she shook her head. "Nobody is fearless. Now let me ask _you _a question, Maura. Why are you marrying Mr. Fairfield?"

"Why don't you like him?" Maura countered.

"Because I know his type," Constance promptly replied. "You are a smart girl, Maura. You have the potential for greatness—and I am profoundly thankful that your father saw to it you were educated in more than just piano playing and needlework. I deeply regret that I missed so much in your life, your many accomplishments. With each of your visits, including this one, I have seen your growth, your intelligence, your _joie de vivre! _Will Garrett Fairfield continue to stimulate that? Will he challenge you, encourage you? Or will he try to stunt your growth?" She watched Maura gravely consider these questions. "Maura? Why are you marrying him?" Still no answer. "Don't do it if you're only concerned for what people would say otherwise. Don't let fear keep you tied down."

"I love him," Maura said in a rushed, breathless voice. "That's why I'm marrying him. I love him and he loves me. He's always been my dearest friend."

"Then why isn't he here with you?"

Maura stared at her mother incredulously. "Because you _told _me not to bring him!"

"He should have stood up for himself," Constance responded smoothly, ignoring the terseness in Maura's tone. "Or at the very least for you. That's what's friends do. Or if he's really so important to you, you should have just said 'to hell with you, mother, I'm bringing my fiancé.'"

Now looking confused and a little hurt, Maura said, "I wasn't raised to speak to either of my parents that way, and I never will." Constance just shook her head at the level of respect she didn't feel she deserved, but Maura misread it as continued disbelief over her choice of Garrett for a life partner. "How could I do better than Garrett Fairfield?"

"In terms of his wealth, you mean?"

"Of course not, I don't care about money—"

"Good," Constance cut in. "I have seen a great number of girls who are accustomed to wealth and luxury—like yourself, whether or not you realize it—and they buckle completely when it is taken away from them. If you want to make me proud, Maura, remember this: money is a needful and precious thing, and when well used, a noble thing. But I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you a poor man's wife, if you were happy, beloved, contented …rather than a queen on a gilded throne, without self-respect or peace."

Maura's eyes were quickly filling up with tears, but before she could even try to compose a proper reply, the train whistle blew loudly. A man with a watch started walking down the platform, bellowing about the last call. Nodding at the train, Constance said, "You'd better get on, dear."

"Mother, I…" Maura had no idea what she wanted to say; anything to grasp just a kernel of sudden insight, true understanding.

Constance started ushering Maura towards the nearest door on the train. "You'll be all right, Maura, of that much I'm quite certain. Stay close to Jane, and take a leaf out of her book!"

"What do you mean?" Maura asked, turning to face her mother even as a porter reached out to help her onto the train.

Grabbing her daughter by the shoulders, Constance planted a firm kiss on each cheek. "Take chances! They might surprise you. Make mistakes—so long as they're not in a hospital, they may wind up teaching you more than you could expect. And dear, don't fret about getting messy. Such a word, isn't it? 'Messy'—that's what plenty of people call my paintings. But they're beautiful to me. This is the time to do it, Maura, and do it all, before you get married."

"All women are gamblers," Maura heard herself saying.

Constance smiled, touched that Maura had remembered one of her sayings. "Otherwise, we'd never get married," she finished. "And that's the biggest gamble you'll ever take, Maura. Marriage is about two people choosing each other every second—so be sure." She gave her daughter another gentle push towards the door, and Maura finally clambered onto the steps. "Remember that, Maura, gambling is inherent—live! Life is a banquet, and too many people are starving to death!" The wheels of the train started slowly, loudly turning, and Constance raised her voice. "Don't be one of them!"

That was the last piece of advice Constance was able to throw in before the train finally pulled away. She waved vigorously until Maura was out of sight, and the porter had to keep one hand firmly on Maura's arm to keep her from falling onto the tracks. Glancing at the ticket clenched tightly in her hand, he carefully guided her down the train to her compartment where Jane was waiting. Once they got there, she leapt up to take Maura off his hands.

"Maura," Jane whispered, closing the door. "Are you gonna be all right?"

Her tears had mostly faded, but Maura looked very blindsided, trembling as she allowed Jane to help her sit down. "I'll be okay," she said shakily. "Just—I'm very overwhelmed. My mother…"

"What'd she say to you?" Jane asked sharply.

Maura missed the bite in Jane's tone. "It's strange," she whispered as if in a daze. "This is the shortest visit I've ever had with her, and yet …I feel as if this is the most she and I have ever really had the chance to… _talk_. Whenever I used to visit her in the past, she would never fully answer my questions, not really—she would direct me to one of her friends." Maura leaned back in her seat, the pieces starting to come together. "She was nervous, I think. About being a mother. She wanted to expose me to as many different points of view as possible. I guess that's what being an artist is all about, but…" She sighed forlornly and stared out the window. "Growing up, I was desperate for _her _point of view, and I so rarely got it."

"Did you get it this time around?" Jane asked in the most respectful voice she could muster.

"Unequivocally yes," Maura answered. "She wants me to be more like her. I think that's the only way I could truly gain her respect. Oh Jane; my problems must seem so petty to you."

"What? No! How do you mean?"

"My complaining about my confusion towards my parents. That's nothing compared to the trials you've had to face."

"Hey, look at me," Jane said quietly. She leaned forward but did not continue talking until Maura was looking at her with watery hazel eyes. "Petty problems are for petty people. You ain't petty, Maura Isles, not even close. And don't go comparing your life to mine like that. We just got dealt different cards is all. Everyone's got their sorrows, and I don't begrudge you yours. The trick ain't in asking God to send away your burdens, or in askin' for smaller ones." She straightened again, flexing her shoulders. "It's in asking for a stronger back."

Maura just shook her head, smiling in disbelief. "I don't know how you do it, Jane, but you seem to always know just what to say."

Shrugging and leaning back, Jane said, "Oh, I dunno. I think a lot of it comes from the fact that I get ideas from a ton of different people. It's like you think your mother wanted. I mean, I seen a lot of different point of views in my travels."

"I gather that makes you quite well-rounded," Maura said. "A sight more than me."

"Don't go talkin' like that again," Jane said. "You been educated, haven't ya? You been to Europe, haven't ya? There's your eye-openers! Don't let anyone tell ya you haven't got a good or an open mind. Not even your mother."

"I thought you got to liking her," Maura said.

"I did. She bought me these, after all," Jane pointed out, gently putting the cigar humidor on her lap. Maura still looked desolate, or at best a little perplexed, and Jane drummed her fingers on the humidor for a few moments, trying to think of a way to cheer up her friend. "Hey, Maura. Do you remember a while ago, you asked if I'd blow you some smoke rings?"

That did get Maura to perk up slightly. "Yes."

"Well… if you wouldn't mind the smell, I'd be happy to do that for you now."

"Really?"

"Sure!" Jane said, grinning at Maura's sudden enthusiasm. "It'd be a shame to let these go to waste on such a long train ride." Before Maura could change her mind, Jane eagerly opened the humidor and took out one of the cigars. "Say, this is high-class," she muttered. "Look, they even include a cutter for ya." Maura watched in fascination as Jane made quick work of snipping off the end of the cigar and closing the humidor. She fumbled in one of her vest pockets for a match, and struck it against the bottom of her boot. Once the cigar was lit, she kept the flame going just a little bit longer before waving out the match and sticking it behind her ear.

Without realizing it, Maura had leaned forward in her seat to be closer to Jane. "You don't have to blow rings right away. Just enjoy it a little."

Chuckling in appreciation, Jane exhaled a thick stream of smoke, careful to do her best not to get it in Maura's face. "I'm enjoying it a _lot_, actually." Her lips formed a small "o" as she breathed out the rest of the smoke.

"Oh, I get it now," Maura said without thinking, going forward without giving Jane a chance to inquire. "The last time I saw you smoke, I didn't see it, because you were in profile. But my father always warned me never to let a man smoke in front of me until we were married, because—well he may have been joking, but he said when you blow out smoke, it's like an invitation to kiss you."

Jane choked a bit and immediately sat up straighter just as Maura was struck by the implications of what she had just said. "Yeah—well, good thing that's not happening here, right?" Jane laughed. "Uh, about those smoke rings…" She cleared her throat and put the cigar back to her mouth, fighting to keep her fingers from trembling. When she pulled the cigar out again, she loosened her jaw, pushing it up and working her tongue as she exhaled the smoke so that it came out shaped like a series of rings. Through the haze of smoke, she heard more than saw Maura's reaction as the woman gasped once in delight and clasped her hands together. Once the smoke had cleared, Jane saw that Maura's eyes were watery. "Oh gosh, I hope that didn't make you too sentimental for your Pop."

"No, it's… just the smell," Maura admitted. "But don't stop, please!" She wiped impatiently at her eyes with her wrist. "Please, it's… it's nice."

Checking to make sure Maura really didn't mind, Jane continued to produce the rings. With time, she started showing off a little bit more, using different techniques to get bigger or fancier results. When about three-quarters of the cigar remained, Jane got an idea in her head that she'd never have proposed even a few days ago. But after getting to know Maura's mother, much as they had had their differences, Jane thought Maura could do well to be a little more risk-taking, like Constance.

So, after Maura had been watching her in nearly a trance-like state for so long, Jane hesitantly asked, "Would you… like to try it?"

"Try what, smoking?" Maura laughed, as if Jane was joking. Her smile faded when she realized Jane was being completely serious. "Jane! I—I couldn't!"

"Why not?"

"Me, smoke a cigar? It's a deplorable idea."

"I'd be tempted to believe ya if you hadn't spent the last twenty-odd minutes staring while I smoked it," Jane said with a smirk. "C'mon, what's the harm? No one'll see ya but me, and I swear I won't tell a soul." She could see Maura's resolve being ebbed away; she was biting her lip, her eyes trained on Jane's mouth, looking unsure and uncomfortable. "Come on," Jane whispered, a few wisps of smoke trailing out with her breath.

In a moment of utter weakness, Maura reached out for the cigar. Her theory of many weeks ago had been proven true: she could not refute a request Jane made while she was holding a cigar. Besides, this image would make her mother proud. Stepping outside the boundaries. Well, in private, anyway. What was the harm in that? Just a taste wouldn't hurt, would it? She had no idea how long the cigar had been in her hand, how much she had been fumbling with it, turning it over, inspecting it needlessly.

What brought her out of her reverie was some low laughter from Jane, followed by, "Jesus Christ, Maura—you handle that cigar like a rabbit handles a carrot."

"Don't get smart!" Maura chastised her. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

"Are you really going to?" Jane asked, unable to suppress a surprised smile.

"Of course!" Maura said, getting back into perfect posture and holding the cigar the way she had seen Jane doing it: resting on her middle finger, with her index finger curled over it.

"Okay, now the important thing to remember is not to inhale," Jane said, still unable to believe she had gotten Maura to do this so quickly. "Just put it in your mouth, and let the smoke fill you up. Then breathe it out. Got it?"

With an assured nod, Maura said, "Got it." She nervously brought the cigar to her mouth and put it between her teeth, wary of Jane's eyes closely watching her. Her breath caught and suddenly smoke was filling her throat and her lungs, and she was coughing something awful. Jane couldn't help laughing, but when she tried to take the cigar back, Maura just waved her hand, waiting for proper air to speak again. "Wait—wait! Just one more try!" Very gamely, Maura indeed gave it another shot, and while her eyes still watered and she couldn't help coughing, this venture was slightly more successful.

When she pulled the cigar out again with a small choking sound, Maura held it aloft and breathed out the smoke. Jane was utterly transfixed by the contrariness of this sight: a regal lady like Maura Isles, dressed from head to toe as if she'd just visited a Queen, smoking a cigar. It would be decades before a word would be invented to properly describe this image. All Jane was aware of was the fact that, far from being funny, this vision of Maura was possibly the most stimulating thing she had ever seen.

Then Maura jumped suddenly and thrust the cigar back at Jane, whose initial response was to chalk this up to delayed ladylike horror. But Maura dove into her nearest bag and pulled out her battered copy of _Little Women_, flipping open to the last chapter she and Jane had read. "Oh my," she whispered.

"What is it?"

Maura laughed quietly. "My mother's read this book. She's read it and she knows how much I love it. She quoted a passage to me: 'money is a needful and precious thing…'"

* * *

><p>Jane found the train ride endlessly fascinating. Watching the landscape flicker past them as they chugged along gave her an appreciation for that fleeting sensation that Constance and the other Impressionists had been trying to convey through their artwork. Having a private compartment was luxurious as well, and it was nice to be able to spend the time with Maura. They worked on some more writing and reading, and on their breaks, Jane would regale Maura with the most family-friendly stories from the Jake Wyatt arsenal.<p>

It was a day and a half before they finally got off the train for fresh air. They had made a stop in Topeka, Kansas, and had just under an hour to kill before it got going again. Jane wanted to see the town a bit and maybe pick up a Christmas gift for her brothers or Angela or Frost, and much as Maura would've liked to accompany her, she decided she'd rather stick close to the station. The weather was becoming quite cold, and as nice as it felt to really get the chance to stretch her legs, she planned on getting back on the train fairly quickly. She made Jane check her watch against the station clock to be sure she'd return in time before allowing her to wander out into town. The station was a bit crowded with other people waiting for another train bound for Santa Fe, and after a minute or two of walking around, Maura decided she'd like to get back to the privacy of her compartment.

What stopped her was a sudden blood-curdling shriek that came from deep within the crowd. A hysterical woman shouted out for a doctor, and the cry was echoed by several people standing by. Without giving it another thought, Maura fought her way through the throng, trying to find the direction of the voice. She finally came across a woman kneeling next to a young girl, possibly twelve, who appeared to have fainted.

"Please, someone, get a doctor!" the woman shrieked.

"It's all right, I'm a doctor!" Maura told her, also getting onto her knees.

"You? But—no, you're a…"

"A woman, yes. A doctor, also."

There was no time to argue—Maura checked the girl's pulse at her wrist, but before she could do much more, an older gentlemen got next to her, shrugging off his jacket. He gruffly told the grieving mother that he too was a doctor as he stuffed the jacket under the girl's feet. Other men started volunteering their coats when the man explained they needed to elevate her legs above the level of her head. Maura had been somewhat startled by his sudden appearance, and was even more surprised at the quickness and efficiency of his movements given his older age.

As if reading her mind, the man grinned and said, "You look surprised. I imagine it's because I'm a bit old. It can't be anything compared to my surprise at seeing a woman who's a doctor, Miss…?"

"Isles. Doctor Maura Isles."

Maura leaned over the girl and undid the first two buttons of her tight collar, and after a few moments, the girl coughed and opened her eyes. Her mother nearly fell over in relief, grasping the child tightly to her, thanking the doctors profusely. Maura stood up as the man leaned over with a small bandage to put on a cut the girl had gotten on her arm when she'd fallen.

"You two headed to Santa Fe?" he asked, and the mother nodded. "So am I. It's a good thing the train's boarding soon. I figure that may be how come your girl fainted, here—too many people, and too tight a collar, huh?" He offered the girl a grin, which she weakly returned as she and her mother stood up. The first boarding call for Santa Fe sounded, and everyone made a path for the child and her mother to get through. The male doctor got to his feet and smiled at Maura. "Say, you're a good girl to have around in a tight spot. You headed to Santa Fe?"

"Mesa, actually."

"Ah, you from Arizona?"

"Yes."

"I used to live there. Mighty nice place. You ever been to Green Forge?"

"Why yes, I have—it's right near where I live!"

The man smiled, and Maura suddenly didn't resent him so much anymore. He seemed like a nice fellow, genuinely interested. "Ah, yes, it's a nice place, isn't it? Maybe I'll visit it some time. You, uh… I saw you get off your train a while ago, thought maybe you were switching off. You're here with your sister? That tall, dark-haired one?"

"Oh, Jane? No, she's just a friend."

She missed the leer in his smile. "A friend, hm? How nice." Another boarding call sounded, and the man looked over at his train. "Well, I'd best be going. It sure was nice working with you, Dr. Isles. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Yes, that would be nice," Maura said politely as he turned to leave. "What was your name?"

He paused before turning back to tip his hat and smile at her. "Charles Hoyt."


	33. But When I'm Bad, I'm Better

**A/N**: Sorry about that cliffhanger, guys- or really, I guess I should be sorry for possibly leading you on...because I didn't want to deal with Hoyt right away, haha. That was just our introduction. Just real quick, I want to say thank you for your patience. I totally understand the whole "can they kiss asap?" thing, and don't blame you for being frustrated. I didn't think I'd be writing this story for so long! The kiss will be sooner rather than later, and I hope it satisfies when it does happen!

* * *

><p>When Jane returned to the station half an hour later, she was sorry to learn she had missed some serious excitement. Maura embellished the story as much as possible, bringing in Hoyt's presence as a mere technicality. Much as she'd have loved Jane to think that she herself had been responsible for reviving the girl, it would have been dishonest to leave out the fact that she'd had help.<p>

"Man came in and thought ya couldn't handle it yourself, huh?" Jane asked with a laugh.

"I believe that was the case, yes. But he was polite after the fact—I think he felt bad for having doubted me."

"As he should have."

Maura smiled at the praise. "Well, anyway. I see you have some boxes; were you successful in your gift shopping?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I just noticed these sitting on the side of the road and thought I'd pick 'em up, you know." When Maura just looked puzzled, Jane sighed good-naturedly and said, "It's a joke, Maura. Yes, they're gifts." She showed Maura what she had been able to pick up for her family and Frost, then Maura offered to help her write a note for each one.

Once this arduous task was completed, Jane opened the deck of cards she'd picked out for Tommy and asked Maura if she knew any card games. Somewhat unsurprisingly, the answer was no. Maura's light protestations about learning to play fell on deaf ears as Jane got down one of Maura's trunks and set it between them to use as a table. With as much patience as Maura guided her reading and writing, Jane taught her how play Beggar-My-Neighbor—the simplest card game she could think of. As no gambling was involved, Maura found herself realizing how innocuous cards could actually be. Although Jane's outbursts of joy or annoyance initially jolted Maura, she eventually found herself being amused by them, and after a certain point, trying to encourage them.

The next day they arrived back in Mesa and caught a carriage ride home with an elderly woman who was headed for Green Forge. She sat across from Jane and Maura and fell asleep almost instantly. This seemed to be quite a feat to Maura, as the ride wasn't particularly smooth nor quiet, but then she looked over and saw that Jane appeared to be having trouble keeping her eyes open.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"Did you sleep at all on that train ride?"

Jane wearily smiled and glanced over at Maura. "Not really. I just couldn't."

"Were you uncomfortable?"

She shrugged. "I was just thinkin'."

"What about?"

"About lots of things. About your mother, and my—my mother, and…" Jane hunched over, clasping her hands together as she inhaled sharply. There was silence inside the carriage for a few moments until it was broken suddenly by a soft, dry sob from Jane. She startled Maura and herself with the sudden reveal: "He killed my mother." Another shaky gasp and Maura's arms were around her. "He killed my mother!"

Maura gripped Jane closer to her, one arm around her back and the other caressing the back of her neck. She had suspected something like this had happened; recently, Jane had let slip that the man who had murdered her father had ruined her parents, but how could that be if her mother had died giving birth to Tommy? There were a few explanations, but Maura hadn't wanted to press her. She had learned to let Jane open up when she wanted to, because pushing her for information rarely worked. Besides, in this case, it would have been extremely insensitive to have badgered her.

Her mind was a blank for comforting things to say as Jane rested her head on Maura's shoulders and wept, arms around the woman's waist. "I'm—I'm getting your coat wet," she choked out, trying weakly to pull away.

"It's all right," Maura insisted quietly, tightening her hold on Jane. "Oh Jane, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jane made some sort of huffing noise, too tired and too overwhelmed to even attempt stopping the flow of her tears. After what may have been another full minute or two, she sniffed, "I hate that you can't hardly ever see your mother. I could tell by watching you two how much you love her, even if she ignores ya." (Normally Maura would have stepped in to defend her mother, but considering Jane's current state of mind, it didn't seem necessary.) "But she—I mean in some ways, she seemed like a real class act."

"She is," Maura said. "In some ways."

With one more shuddering breath, Jane was able to exhale a slightly more relaxed sigh. Her face was still streaked with tears, but the crying itself had finally stopped. "I didn't hardly know my mother," she said quietly, staring out the window of the carriage as she remained leaning against Maura. "But my Pop said she was real smart, and beautiful, too."

"Well, then. You are your mother's daughter, Jane."

Jane managed a small, rueful chuckle. "Nah, she was a lady. Like you." She sighed again, and this time it was more of a defeated sound. "She's probably real disappointed in how I turned out."

"I don't think so," Maura whispered.

"Look at me, I ain't even a proper woman half the time," Jane mumbled.

"Life's dealt you a hard hand, Jane. Your mother knows that. And she sees that while you might be using unconventional methods, you are trying your best to avenge your family. You're the oldest. You remember your parents better than Frankie and Tommy. I am sure that she is looking down at you from heaven and proudly pointing you out to all the friends she's made up there."

Jane screwed her eyes shut and shook her head against Maura's chest. "No, Maura. You're kind to say things like that, but it ain't true. I dunno if you really believe it or if you're just tryin' to make me feel better, but… what mother wants her only daughter runnin' around with a man she ain't married to…" She forced her eyes open and glanced at the old woman in the carriage to make sure she was asleep. When Jane went on, her voice was even more gravelly with tiredness than it had been before: "Pretendin' to be an outlaw, _killing _people when she has to? She ain't proud of me, Maura."

"Well, I suppose neither of us can truly speak for her," Maura said. "But if _I _were your mother, I would be impressed that you had found a way to keep yourself from going completely insane, from doubting the entire human race. You really are a marvel, Jane."

"Her name was Maria," Jane said abruptly.

Maura waited for Jane to continue, but that seemed to be the end of it. "That's a beautiful name," she murmured. "Maria. It has a nice rhythm to it."

"Yeah," Jane husked, closing her eyes and unconsciously letting her weight rest more fully against Maura. "Yeah, it does."

After a few moments, Jane finally fell asleep, utterly drained and weary, and never feeling so at ease as she did in Maura's arms. For her part, Maura was not in want of conversation. She was content to be Jane's pillow, to gently thread her fingers through those dark curls to tease out the tangles, and with her other hand to stroke away the remnants of Jane's tears. _Oh, Jane. I wish you would let someone take care of you_. She pressed her lips briefly to Jane's forehead, hoping to transfer some sense of comfort into Jane's dreams.

Upon leaving that kiss, Maura's eyes had closed automatically, and she suddenly remembered an experience from her childhood. When she had been eight or nine years old, her father had had a regular patient in a veteran Union soldier who was gradually losing his eyesight. Other than that, he was the most well-adjusted of the veterans her father ever treated, and she grew quite fond of him. Maura had sobbed relentlessly for him when he went completely blind, and he hated to hear the little girl cry.

He'd taken her up on his lap and said to her, _"It's all right, darlin', don't you cry for me. You know what this is? It's just a new fight, a new challenge. You wait and see, there'll be a silver lining come through_._" _And eventually, once he got used to the blindness, he was right. He explained to Maura how his other senses had increased sensitivity since he lost the sight he'd taken for granted: smells were richer, sounds were more descriptive, things he touched told stories, and even his sense of taste became more refined. It was getting so he hardly missed sight at all. He encouraged Maura to close her eyes sometimes (so long as she was in a safe place where someone was watching her) and do an experiment: learn to describe everything around her without looking.

She had done it quite frequently for a few months, loving the newfound ability to see the world in a different way. It was not unusual for her father to walk into a room and see her sitting perfectly upright at the piano or a table, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. He thought it was splendid, but the neighborhood children were more amused than anything—yet another quirk Garrett had to go around tirelessly defending until Maura grew out of it.

Actually, her mother had loved the idea when Maura introduced it to her. One of Maura's favorite of their memories was sitting in a park in Paris with her mother, both of them with their eyes closed as they sat on a bench. Afterwards, instead of talking about it, they painted what they had heard, felt, and smelled. The last night of that trip, Constance consented to allow Maura to sleep in her bed, and before she drifted off, Maura closed her eyes and used her other senses to create a portrait of her mother she hoped never to forget.

As the carriage rolled towards Hollow Creek, Maura suddenly found herself wanting to try that old experiment again. It had probably been a good fifteen years since she'd stopped, and now would be the perfect time as she was also tired and her eyes could use the rest. They closed, and she reflexively tightened her grip on Jane ever so slightly.

She felt the buck-skin of Jane's vest beneath her fingers, rough and a bit wild like Jane herself. Traveling over to one side, Maura detected some sort of stubble, probably dirt, in a few places. It was the same vest Jane had been wearing yesterday, and when Maura breathed deeply, she could smell the traces of cigar smoke. It had never been a particularly attractive scent (and was always overwhelming during the actual act), but something about smelling it now on Jane's clothes was oddly comforting. Maura sighed softly and turned enough to bury half her face in Jane's curls, and there she got a faint whiff of wild grass, although real or imagined she wasn't sure. Those smells, combined with a hint of whiskey, made up Jane's scent.

It was hard at first to shut out the exterior noises—the wheels of the carriage as they rolled around, the clip-clop of the horses' hooves, the occasional jingling of the reins. But Maura was determined to internalize her focus, and she strained her ears for anything of Jane's she could listen to. The first thing she noticed was an occasional _clack _that came when the silver tip of Jane's loose belt hit the rivet on one of her suspenders. More reliably steady was Jane's breathing, which Maura almost felt more than she heard: shifting her position slightly, she was able to feel each exhaled breath gently touch her collar, like a sigh, a caress. The breathing was soft, relaxed, peaceful. The perfect, soothing sensation for Maura to fall asleep to as well.

Maura had no idea how much time had passed when she was jarred awake thanks to the carriage being jerked to a stop. She blinked a few times as she tried to orient herself—oh yes, a carriage ride, and they were outside Melody's boarding house—then noticed that her two riding companions were remarkably still asleep. The driver rapped on the top of the carriage, announced they had arrived in Hollow Creek, and started getting down so he could take off all of Maura and Jane's luggage.

"Jane," Maura whispered, her voice cracking with weariness. Jane still had her arms wrapped around her, fast asleep. Maura wished she had the physical strength to carry Jane home, because she found herself lacking the emotional strength to wake her up. She looked so peaceful. But someone had to do it, and better her than the driver. "Jane," she said again, giving her friend a light shake. "Wake up. We're home."

Jane furrowed her brow and said, "Hmph?"

"Home, Jane. We're home."

"Home?" she groaned, eyes still shut as she burrowed closer into Maura. "Hmm… warm."

"Jane? Please get up," Maura said weakly, taking one of Jane's arms and shifting it off of her. "Come on, it's time to wake up." Despite the relative warmth of the carriage, Maura's body felt cold when Jane groggily sat up. Maura had to stifle a laugh when she saw an imprint on Jane's cheek of the fabric she had been leaning on, and the sound got Jane to look over at her.

"We're home?" she asked wearily.

"Yes, dear."

Jane blinked hard as Maura patted her hand. "Okay… okay." She kicked open the door and jumped out before the driver had even finished unloading their luggage, then she turned back and offered Maura her hand to get out of the carriage. Maura busied herself brushing off some dust that had settled on Jane's shirt, and then they both thanked the driver once he had gotten down all of their things.

"Thanks for the swell trip," Jane offered as the carriage rolled away. She looked down and kicked at a pebble. "I know you'd have liked to have brought Mr. Fairfield with ya instead, but…"

"I'm glad you were you with me," Maura said, smiling when the comment got Jane to look up at her. "I wouldn't have rather traveled with anyone else."

"Me too," Jane said. "Or me either—me neither? Uh… anyway, if I ever go runnin' around with Frost again, it won't be half as fun as goin' around with you." She couldn't fight a yawn, though, which made Maura laugh and ask if she was sure about that. "C'mon, Maura! You know I ain't yawning 'cause I'm bored! I'm so dang tired. I think I'm gonna go home and rest up for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?"

"I'm teachin' you to ride like a man," Jane said with a smirk. "You didn't think you'd wormed your way outta that one, did ya?"

Jane's grin was too infectious to resist. "All right, Calamity Jane, I will see you then."

"Good! Before I go, can I take up some of your luggage for ya?"

Before Maura could demurely decline, they were interrupted when Garrett came striding over, calling his fiancé's name. Jane awkwardly stepped aside as he walked right up to Maura, smiling broadly and taking Maura's hands in both of his, kissing her on the cheek. Jane's fists clenched in her pockets; she wasn't sure why that action on Garrett's part had made it feel as though he'd just punched her in the gut. He called out to get the attention of some of Melody's workers, asking them to take Maura's things up to her room. Jane quickly moved her own bag and boxes aside, even though there could have been no mistaking her grubby things for Maura's unblemished belongings.

"Jane!" Maura called after her when she had tried to sneak away. "You weren't leaving without saying goodbye?"

"Er—goodbye," Jane said, turning back around and waving.

"Thank you for a wonderful time."

"You're wel—uh…thank _you_."

Garrett chipped in as well: "Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Jane!"

"Sure. Any time, Mr. Fairfield."

As Jane walked away, Garrett jumped in to asking Maura all about her trip, the train ride, the show, the sights. He was leading her back towards his office to talk, telling her how much he had missed her these last few days. Maura wasn't sure what she herself was saying, only empty words to make him feel as though she were paying attention—but she couldn't keep from repeatedly glancing at Jane's retreating figure, missing her already.

* * *

><p>Jane went home and fell right asleep. She slept all through the rest of the day, through dinner, and into much of the night. She probably would have slept right on through the next morning if it hadn't been for a terrible nightmare.<p>

_She and Maura walked down the street of Melody's boarding house, talking about nothing and laughing as Jo Friday ran ahead of them. Bass was outside as well, impressively keeping up with the pace that Jane and Maura had set. The sun was shining, but except for them, the street was entirely empty. You couldn't even see a soul through the open windows of nearby buildings, but Jane didn't notice right away. She was too happy. _

_ In her dream, her grammar was perfect and she had lost the western drawl her vowels sometimes picked up. Maura handed her a book and asked for her opinion on one of the paragraphs, and Jane read it quickly and easily. Her hands were bare and they bore no scars. _

_ They both looked up when they realized Jo had stopped barking. She was nowhere to be seen, until they heard a piteous moan from behind a nearby building. They ran over to see a man kneeling by Jo's dead body. Jane cried out and threw herself on the ground next to her dog, lying in a small pool of blood. Her eyes burned and she dimly registered that the man was standing up. He apologized for getting there too late. _

_ And then Maura screamed. Jane instantly looked back up to see the man grabbing her around the waist, hauling her away. The bottom half of his face was covered by a black spotted kerchief, and Jane knew it was him, it was the man who killed her parents. Dark eyes glinted in her direction as he kept one arm firmly around Maura's waist, using his free hand to hold a knife up to her throat._

_ "Don't you go anywhere, Janie," he said. "I'll be back for you."_

_ Jane tried to stand up, but her legs were made of lead. They refused to move, and she watched helplessly as the man half-dragged Maura to the nearest building. She was giving a good fight, but was not nearly strong enough to overpower him on her own. Surely someone would hear her screaming, would hear the man's vicious laughter—but no one was coming. They were entirely alone, just the three of them. The man kicked open the door of the building and disappeared inside of it with Maura, and the sounds of her screaming instantly died out. _

_ The silence was more terrifying than the shouting. Jane had to get up. She __had__ to. With herculean effort, she was able to shift one leg so that now only one knee was on the ground. Pain shot through her foot up to her head, a searing ache like she had just been set on fire, but she couldn't stop. She reached out for a board jutting out of the building to heave herself up, and the pain rippled through her arms, but she didn't care—she didn't care. Anything to keep Maura safe, to keep her alive. There was a window just above her; if she could find a way to get in through that, maybe—_

_ "Janie!" The man's voice sliced through the silence like the crack of a whip. In fact, she physically cowered at the sound of it. "Janie, you'd better not be trying to get in here. You better wait your turn. I'm not done with the good doctor here, yet."_

_ "Please!" Jane croaked, her voice scorching her throat. "Please, don't—don't hurt her—"_

_ "Oh, I'm afraid you're too late for that, Jane. But it's all right! The doctor's enjoying herself, aren't you doc?" There was a deadly pause and then a muffled whimper so light, Jane barely heard it. It spurred her to finally get on her feet, but she was overwhelmed with the sensation that she was standing barefoot on coals, and the man just laughed. "I always win, Jane. Sometimes I have to use unpleasant methods, but I always get what I want."_

_ "Whatever you want, I can get it!" Jane begged, her voice sounding almost foreign to her own ears. Neither Jane Rizzoli nor Jake Wyatt ever begged. "Just please, let her go—!"_

_ His only reply was more of that wicked laughter, the same noise Jane had heard when she'd come back to consciousness in the woods all those years ago, hands tied and at his mercy. _

Jane woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding and she scanned the room, jumpy, paranoid—where was she? _Oh…home._ Jo Friday was sleeping in a basket in the corner. It was the middle of the night. That had just been a dream.

With a groan, she lay back down, pulling her blanket up to her chin. _Relax. It's a dream. It didn't happen. That man ain't here. Maura's all right._

She was, wasn't she? Much as Jane knew it was crazy to be worried, she couldn't fall back asleep. She felt wide awake, and not just because she'd been asleep for over eight hours—she couldn't stop hearing Maura's screams. She couldn't stop picturing that man doing terrible things to her—what if she _wasn't_ all right? What if something had happened to her?

Jane spent about another minute in bed trying to talk herself into falling back asleep and forgetting that silly nightmare, but she couldn't do it. She swiftly sat back up, pulled on a pair of jeans and old boots, and grabbed a gun before running outside. The night air was much colder than she had been prepared for, it and chilled her skin right through her thin undershirt, but she didn't care. As quietly as she could, she ran across town to Melody's boarding house. She nearly stopped when she saw Grant sitting in a chair on the porch, but before she could back up, he saw her and stood up.

"Jane?" When he saw that her top half was covered only with a white undershirt, he quickly averted his gaze and said, "Cover yourself, please!"

"Grant, what're you doing here?"

"The boarding house is part of my rounds, Jane. Besides, Mr. Fairfield's asked Melody to keep the place a little more secure lately. Ain't any harm in that, is there?"

"Well—no—but… would you please let me inside?"

He turned to glare at her, but then averted his eyes almost comically fast. "Why?"

"I—uh, I left something with Dr. Isles by accident. And I need it."

"You need it at a quarter after three in the morning?"

"So help me, Grant, if you don't let me go up there, I will raise such a racket that—"

"Okay, okay!" he said in a harsh whisper. "Don't go getting yourself all worked up." He opened one of the doors, still looking respectfully away. "And don't you go waking any of them ladies up, either. Be quick about it."

Jane rushed past without thanking him, then tread quietly as she could up the stairs. _It's all right, don't worry, she's fine_, she told herself, trying to calm her still anxiously-beating heart. She reached Maura's room, closing her eyes and whispering "please, God," before gently twisting the knob and peeking inside.

Maura was resting on her side, her back to Jane. Once her eyes had adjusted enough to the dark, Jane could see the woman's body gently rise and fall with her breathing, and Jane let out a relieved breath herself. Nothing in the room was out of place from what she could tell. But just in case, it probably wouldn't hurt to check. She took a careful step inside in hopes of scaring out anyone who might have been hiding in there. But that was silly, she realized, as she glanced at Maura's desk. _It was a dream, you idiot. Not real. _

There was a nib pen on the desk next to a stack of blank papers, and Jane found herself drawn to them. Moonlight was streaming in through one of the windows, making it easy for Jane to pick up the pen and see what she was writing: "_Dear Maura – get yaur pants frum A, and meet me at the coreall. – Jane." _She didn't have time to worry about the spelling she was sure was abysmal and hadn't even bothered trying to get "Adelaide" right (she figured Maura would be smart enough to get who she meant).

And indeed the next morning when Maura woke up and discovered the note, she got the message pretty clearly. At breakfast Melody managed to briefly waylay her with questions about the trip, but she was able to get off to the tailor's relatively quickly. Adelaide was delighted to finally get a chance to put the split skirt on Maura and show her how to convert it to a skirt if desired. The brushed twill was surprisingly comfortable, if not entirely attractive to look at, but Maura was able to accept this once she reminded herself that the point was not about looking good but riding well. Adelaide even offered to drive her to the corral, possibly sensing that Maura would not yet feel at ease walking down the street in pants.

Jane was leaning against the corral's fence when Adelaide and Maura pulled up, and she grinned at the sight of Maura in those pants. She quickly went over to help Maura down, and Adelaide obligingly drove off once she felt she had been sufficiently thanked.

"Glad you made it," Jane said, pulling back her hair.

"Yes, well, your note was rather clear," Maura said, pulling it out of her pocket.

"Aw, gosh," Jane laughed. "You kept it? Go on and tell me how many spelling mistakes I got in there."

"Not many," Maura said lightly. "…do you really want to know?"

Jane smiled and held up her arms. "I live to learn! But maybe it can wait until after _you've_ learned. Fair?"

Maura nodded and slid the note back into her pocket. "Fair."

"All right then, come on!" Jane said, looking excited and taking Maura's hand, leading her into the corral. "I already got Wind Whistler all saddled up for ya."

Maura approached her horse with a bit of trepidation—or rather, she approached the new saddle with a bit of trepidation. It looked so unsafe, so minimal. She tried to reassure herself by saying that if the saddle didn't seem dressed for the part, at least _she _did. Well, partly at least: she couldn't bring herself to wear a proper masculine riding shirt, and was wearing an ivory-colored blouse that matched her gloves in color.

She raised her eyebrows when Jane got down on her knees, threading her fingers together and holding them up. "Where's that mounting block the Sheriff keeps around?"

"What? I dunno. Just step up, it's all right."

"Jane, I don't want to hurt you…"

"C'mon, you can't hurt me," Jane scoffed. "It'll only be for a second, and besides, what d'you weigh—a hundred and twenty pounds?"

"A hundred and sixteen point eight," Maura said, sounding slightly hurt.

"Maura, come on! Step up before I throw you up there!"

Believing entirely that Jane would actually do something like that, Maura said, "What do I hold onto once I get up there?"

"Just—the horse. Its neck, I dunno. You'll be fine, trust me."

Taking a deep breath, Maura stepped onto Jane's interwoven hands, nearly faltering when she felt herself being boosted up as she swung her leg over the horse. It was very strange being in this position after riding sidesaddle all her life, and she felt vastly out of place.

"You look good!" Jane laughed.

"Then why are you laughing?"

Jane just chuckled and waved her hand. "There ain't no reason to look so scared, Maura! Wind Whistler ain't gonna ride off—unless I told her to or something…"

"Calamity Jane, don't you dare!" Maura cried, anxiously grabbing onto the reins. "I feel as though I'm about to slide off any second!"

Considering how terrified Maura actually looked, Jane bit her lip and then said, "D'you want me to come up there with you?"

Maura raised her eyebrows. "Is that allowed? I mean," she sighed when Jane looked ready to laugh again, "Is it possible? Can you fit two people on one saddle?"

"Of course you can. Frost and I do it all the time when we have to, like supposin' if one of us is wounded and can't ride on our own." She took Maura's expression as answer enough. "I'll just get behind ya—or no, I guess maybe I oughtta get in the front, so you have something to hold onto. Okay?" When Maura nodded nervously, Jane said, "All right. If you'll just take your foot off the stirrup there for a second, so I can get up?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

They hadn't planned this out very well, and the fact that the logistics of Jane mounting the horse were so amusing did not help. Maura was laughing relentlessly as Jane tried to tell her how to bend or shift so that she wouldn't get knocked in the head by a snakeskin boot as Jane tried to get up. It wound up taking about triple the time it should have, but eventually Jane managed to straddle the saddle and pick up the reins. She courteously took her feet out of the stirrups so Maura's could inhabit them, adding another level of safety.

"Um… all right," Jane said. "You should put your arms around my waist."

"Right." Maura obeyed, and she felt Jane stiffen slightly. "Like this?"

"Yes," Jane said, her throat suddenly dry at the feeling of Maura's breasts pressed against her back. "That's fine. I'll go slow at first, all right? Maura?"

"Yes, all right," Maura squeaked.

Jane gave Wind Whistler a gentle nudge, and the second they started moving, Maura's grip tightened accordingly (Jane was gentlemanly enough not to complain). Her face was buried at the base of Jane's neck, and Jane was very conscious of every breath she felt there. It was a hard feeling to describe—she didn't know what to liken it to, or even what emotion it made her feel. But she just _felt_ whatever it was so strongly, that she didn't even notice when Maura started to hesitatingly slacken her vice grip. Eventually Maura lifted her head up enough to look around, and she laughed with surprise when she realized she was riding like a real westerner.

"Proud of yourself?" Jane guessed with a smile.

"Oh, I feel almost wicked!"

"Yeah, you're real bad, Maura Isles," Jane teased her. "How would you feel if we sped up a little bit? Just a little?"

"Will you stop if I ask you to?"

"Of course, Maura."

"Well… all right then."

Their snail's pace nearly doubled, and this time around, Maura's intensified grip lasted only a few seconds until she readjusted. Although she wasn't as afraid, she did notice an increase in discomfort, particularly between her legs as the saddle rode up slightly. Was this normal? It was never something she had ever even considered being a problem riding like this. She leaned forward to try and ease the feeling, resting her cheek against Jane's shoulder. _This feels better…_ But still, after a few minutes, she asked Jane if they could end their first riding lesson.

"First?" Jane asked hopefully. "So you'll try again sometime?"

"After Christmas, perhaps," Maura said, as Jane slowed the horse to a stop.

"Well considering this was your first time," Jane said, carefully lifting her right leg over the horse's neck and sliding off. "I think you did very impressively, Dr. Isles."

"Why thank you," Maura returned.

"Here, let me help you down," Jane offered, holding out her arms. "Just, uh… bring your right leg carefully over—that's it, and—whoa!"

She took a quick step forward to catch Maura before she slid right onto the ground, awkwardly pushing her arms beneath Maura's, ending with one hand behind her shoulders and the other at the small of her back. Maura had been startled by her near-fall, only just now realizing that she had quickly wrapped her legs around Jane's in fright, her arms cumbered about the woman's neck to try and break her fall. Really, it was rather impressive that Jane hadn't buckled and fallen over.

They were both noticing now that in this position, Maura was (for once) the one looking down at Jane. Being taller, Jane was unaccustomed to having to look up at her, and that, perhaps combined with the sudden seriousness in Maura's countenance, was making her knees feel incredibly weak. She swallowed hard, also having felt that throb between her legs on the saddle, but having expected it to go away once she'd dismounted, as it usually did. But not this time; now it was pulsing stronger.

"Maura…?" she whispered, having no idea how to follow that up.

"Sh," Maura breathed, delicately pushing some hair out of Jane's face and behind her ear. "Thank you."

"F-for what?" Jane stammered.

"For being so remarkable," Maura answered. "No wonder my mother thought so highly of you—you take chances, you get messy, and you don't care. You take me along for the ride without condescending to me."

"Maura, you're… makin' me tremble." When Maura just smiled at this sentiment, Jane hurried to explain, "No, really—can I put you down now?"

"Oh, of course," Maura said, flustered as she untangled herself from Jane's body and let her feet touch the ground. "Sorry, I—oh!" She groaned as she took a step. "Is it supposed to be sore afterwards? Walking, I mean?"

"Not…well, I dunno, maybe 'cause you're new at it," Jane said. She was about to offer to get Maura a drink of water when Korsak's carriage pulled up, holding himself and Frost. "Hi, fellas! What brings you out here?"

"Well I own this place, in case you forgot," Korsak pointed out. "And Frost here wanted to talk to you. Dr. Isles! Don't you look nice!"

"Thank you, Sheriff," Maura laughed as he and Frost got out of the carriage. "Jane's just been giving me a lesson on how to ride like a real westerner!"

"Yeah, she's a natural," Jane said. "Frost, I gotta say, I'm surprised to see you! How'd ya get here so fast?"

"Hitched a ride on a train," he said, walking away from Korsak and Maura and indicating that Jane should follow him. After Korsak asked Maura if she'd like to help him feed the horses (to which she excitedly agreed), Frost said, "I may have something."

"What?" Jane asked eagerly.

"Well I done like you said, I tracked every show, every troupe I could find," he said. "Only most of them wouldn't let me inside on account of… well, y'know," he sighed, gesturing to his face, which Jane understood to mean his skin color. "But I finally seen one tavern with a big banner on the side saying they've got 'Teresa the Terrific' for one night only. You said we were looking for Teresa, right?"

"Yes! Did you see her?"

"No," Frost grunted. "Couldn't get in. And her manager was pretty uptight, too. Best I could do was steal a copy of touring dates." He held out a sheet to Jane and said, "Her troupe's gonna be in Green Forge at the end of January. See the venue? That's Stanley's new place."

Jane's hands shook as she stared at the sheet. "Frost, this is it," she said through her teeth. "This is our chance. If Bobby was right, the killer will come right to us, to see her. All we have to do is get to her—"

Frost snorted. "Good luck with that. Her manager's a tough one, and it sounded to me like showgirls are hard to get close to."

"Not for Jake Wyatt," Jane said sourly. "We'll do this, Frost. We'll get him."

"And then? We gonna kill him, or has Korsak still got you convinced we should just put him behind bars?"

Jane couldn't help but look over at Maura, who was smiling innocently as she stroked Wind Whistler's nose. She felt a lump rise in her throat which made it difficult to speak: "We'll …cross that bridge when we come to it." _Korsak's right. We oughtta be more civilized out here. We should just put him in prison. But if he comes even close to touching one hair on Maura's head…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I forgot to say thanks for the western recommendations! Looks like I've got a lot of Netflixing to do in my future. _  
><em>


	34. The First Stone

**A/N**: And then I shamelessly borrowed a Floyd joke from _30 Rock_.

* * *

><p>Christmas in the Creek was a mixed bag of joys and sorrows that year. Maura wished the snow drifts from Chicago could have followed them to Hollow Creek, as growing up in Boston had gotten her accustomed to the notion of white Christmases. She knew it was a silly thing to get sentimental and wistful about, but it didn't really sink in <em>how <em>small of a problem it was until Jane's family faced their own misfortune.

On Christmas Eve day, Tommy had gotten drunk and gone for a ride in Angela's carriage down the main street of town. This was bad enough, but what got him thrown in jail was the fact that he hit Father Scott and nearly killed him. Tommy had then crashed into the bank, destroying Angela's carriage and laughing hysterically all the while. Jane had dragged him to the Sheriff's office and personally thrown him in a cell. Angela was heartbroken about her carriage, and confused as to how Tommy could have done something so dangerously reckless.

"Ma, how can you be surprised?" Jane cried. "How can you be so _naïve? _You run a saloon, and Tommy practically lives there!"

"He's a good boy, he's never done something like this!"

Jane snorted. "What, he's never got drunk before? Ma, I don't know where you get off tellin' me I oughtta be more of a lady when you've been runnin' a saloon for twenty years! It's what you do, Ma, you give these men the tools they need to lose themselves and do crazy things like this!"

"That's not why I run this place!" Angela contested hotly. "I help men forget their heartache for a little while, or give 'em a place to celebrate and be happy with their friends!"

"Ma, you don't get to decide what the alcohol does to 'em! You don't get to say how the drink'll make 'em act! That's how come Frankie's gotta throw them fellas out sometimes, 'cause they wanna pick fights and they start 'em in your establishment! And then when they _do _get thrown out, sometimes they just pick up where they left off and go on a tear—like Tommy!"

"The old place, yeah, but not here!" Angela insisted, gesturing to the interior of the tavern, which would officially be opening on Christmas. "When they get outta line, we'll just put 'em in a room until they calm down! That way, they won't have to go out and—"

"Hit priests?" Jane spat. "Angela, look. All I'm sayin' is that you gotta not try so hard to turn us into somethin' we ain't, especially when it ain't the example you been settin'!"

"Janie, I took this job 'cause I had to support myself!" Angela said, now looking and sounding more hurt than angry. "Is it so wrong of me to want better for my children than I ever had?" And at that, Jane had to physically bite back the retort, "we ain't your children." She knew that would've been going too far. Angela plowed on: "You haven't got the right to get mad at Tommy for this, _Calamity Jane_, after what you done to Dr. Isles when _you _got so damn drunk just before Thanksgiving!"

True though this point may have been, it felt like the lowest blow Jane had ever been dealt—not just from Angela, but from anybody. Angela instantly knew she had been too harsh, and tried feebly to apologize, but Jane held up a hand to silence her. "Ma? I ain't sayin' that's a bad point. But you gotta let us go. We're grown people. Frankie and Tommy ain't kids anymore, so don't treat 'em like they are. Don't go makin' excuses for Tommy no more. He's gotta learn to accept responsibility for what he does."

With that, Jane stormed out of the tavern, upset with Angela and mad at herself. She wasn't sure why this issue with Tommy had enraged her so much. Angela didn't know half the truth when she called out Jane for her hypocrisy—_but still, _Jane told herself, _the bad things I done all had a good reason backin' 'em up. Tommy was just lookin' for a joyride. And he almost killed a priest! _In all her rabble-rousing, Jane had never hurt a man of the cloth. Her fists were clenched tightly in her pockets as she stalked aimlessly down the street, kicking at rocks as if each one had done her a great personal wrong. _That boy needs to start actin' like a man._

"HEY!"

She turned to see Frankie stomping towards her, wearing the angriest expression she had ever seen on his typically-cheerful visage. "Frankie, what—?"

"What the hell'd you do to Ma?" he barked.

"What? Nothin'! I—"

He pointed at her accusingly and did not lower his voice even as he was now only a foot away from her. "I come back downstairs and she was crying! All my life I ain't ever seen her so upset!"

"How d'you know she wasn't cryin' over Tommy?"

"First of all because she didn't cry about it right when it happened, second of all 'cause she was fine when I left, then bust up when _you _came by!"

"That don't mean nothin', Frankie," Jane said through her teeth.

She hated herself for making Angela cry, but for some reason she was even more upset with Frankie for calling her out on it. Frankie had always been a nice boy, but he'd had a tendency to get on Jane and Tommy for not taking education seriously, for not always thinking before they acted. He respected Jane as his big sister, and he didn't give her as hard a time for leaving as Tommy did, but now and then he _did _seem to lord certain things over her. At the moment, for example, her grammar.

"Oh, it doesn't _mean_ anything?" he asked. "You reduced _the woman who raised us _to tears! And it ain't just now, Jane! You ain't around to see how sad she is that you're gone. For years we've kept hoping that maybe you'd come back, you'd see the light, you'd remember that Pop's big idea was family! Family first! And what d'you do? You go off for your adventures! You do whatever the hell you want without thinking!"

"Don't tell me what I do!" Jane shouted, giving her brother a hard shove. They had attracted a small crowd in the middle of the street, none of whom was brave enough to intervene, but only one of whom was willing to miss out on witnessing this fight by going to get the Sheriff. "You don't know a damn thing about what I do or why I do it!"

"Oh yeah? And whose fault is that?" Frankie yelled, not afraid to shove her back. "You never stop by, and you don't hardly write! I am your brother, and I think I'm entitled to give you a piece of my mind!"

"You ain't entitled to it when you don't know nothin' about it!" Jane snarled, pushing Frankie's shoulder. He latched onto her arm with a strength she hadn't been expecting, and they became involved in a quick scuffle. It wasn't terribly violent; mostly just wrestling for control with no particular aim involved except maybe to make the other one give up.

Pretty soon, Jane heard Korsak shouting at people to go away, and then she felt him trying to push between her and Frankie. "What the hell's the matter with you two?" he hollered, finally grabbing Frankie by the scruff of his shirt and yanking him away. When neither of the siblings answered, Korsak said, "First Tommy and now you? You think Angela needs more heartbreak right now? Who started this?"

"I did," Jane huffed, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"What is this, you drunk again? I need to lock you up again? Maybe let you and Tommy spend a little time together, thinkin' about what you've done?"

A new voice entered the conversation: "I don't think that will be necessary, Sheriff." Korsak and the Rizzoli's turned to see Maura had walked up, looking concerned.

"With all due respect, Dr. Isles," Korsak started.

"This ain't your business," Jane said quietly, still staring at the ground.

_"_You _are_ my business," Maura stated calmly.

The look of gentle gratitude on Jane's face was not missed by Frankie or Korsak, who exchanged a glance of their own before Frankie said, "S'okay, Sheriff. Jane didn't mean any harm. And besides, I provoked her."

"I deserved it," Jane said with a shrug. "I was bein' an ass."

"Let her come with me," Maura said to Korsak. "I'll keep her ass in line."

"Whoa! Dr. Isles!" Korsak gasped, looking half-shocked and half-amused. "If you're using language like that, I think you've been spending too much time with Calamity Jane here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sheriff," Maura said, looking not at all disturbed by his (or Jane's or Frankie's nonverbally surprised) reaction. "I need to talk to Jane anyway. Now are you going to make us walk, or would you be willing to give us a ride to Mr. Fairfield's home?"

Korsak just raised his eyebrows and led the way to his carriage. The short ride over to Garrett's part of town felt much longer than usual, as it was entirely silent. Maura didn't want to talk in front of Korsak, and Korsak had no idea what to say. Jane was just a little confused and still upset at the fact that she'd gotten into a brawl with Frankie. It wasn't until Korsak dropped them off and rode away that Jane realized she didn't want to be around Mr. Fairfield right now. She didn't really want to be around anyone, except maybe Maura, but not if that came at the price of having to be in the same place as Garrett. But then Maura calmly explained that he wasn't home.

"So why're we here?" Jane mumbled.

"I'm making a pudding pie cake for Christmas, and I thought maybe you could help me test it," Maura replied, walking up the front steps. "I can't use the kitchen at Melody's, and Garrett allowed me to borrow his. I want a good, unbiased opinion on this recipe." Jane highly doubted she could be unbiased towards anything Maura was involved with, but she didn't bring this up. "Now do you want to tell me what this argument with Frankie was about?" Maura asked, walking briskly into the kitchen.

No, Jane didn't want to talk about it, but she figured she ought to be straight with Maura. "My pride got in the way, Maura. Frankie had every right to be upset with me. I'm just—I got frustrated with Tommy. But Frankie was right, and Angela was right. Who the hell _am _I to get mad at Tommy for doin' something like this when I've done so much worse? Granted, I ain't ever done nothin' to a priest, but still. I done far worse."

"You got upset because Tommy's your little brother," Maura answered calmly, putting some small blocks of chocolate in a skillet and placing it on top of the stove. "You still see him as a child, and you feel anxious that he's growing up and not keeping a necessarily reputable… reputation. It's completely natural for you to feel that way."

"You've spent time with him," Jane said. "You think he's a bad kid?"

"I think he's a little turned around, perhaps," Maura said with a shrug. "He doesn't seem to quite have your work ethic, or your sense of… duty. He's a smart boy; I can tell from his chess strategies. He just doesn't always apply his intelligence to his actions."

"And you think I do?" Jane snorted. "I just got into a fight with Frankie 'cause I couldn't tell him the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he was sayin' I had no sense of family loyalty," Jane sighed. "And from what he knows, I don't blame him. He don't understand that family _is _the reason I keep leavin' all the time and stayin' away. Sure Frost and I get some good times, experience some fun and interesting things, but it's only happenstance. If I didn't consider my family so important, I wouldn't be out there tryin' to get the guy who destroyed it." She shook her head and stared down at the table, playing with the frayed edges of her vest. "And look what I got to show for it. Hardly nothin'. Over ten years of runnin' away from the only family I got. No wonder they think I'm worthless."

That finally got Maura to look up from stirring the chocolate. "They said that to you?"

Jane glanced up at her before miserably returning her gaze to the table. "No. They didn't have to. I just know I am, and they'd be right to think it."

Maura had never heard Jane use such a dejected tone, and it was one of the most disheartening sounds she had ever encountered. She put down her mixing spoon and walked over to the table, pulling up a chair next to Jane and taking her hands. "Jane," she said softly. "Don't say that. You are _not _worthless. Look at me." She waited for Jane's morose gaze to meet hers before continuing in a whisper: "You are priceless." When it looked as though Jane was about to protest this, Maura raised her voice slightly and added, "Don't try to fight me on that, Calamity Jane. Your family loves you, and that's why they wish you would be around more often. I remember my first day here, I saw Angela and your brothers reunite with you. Maybe you took their happiness for granted—but I didn't. I almost wanted to cry. I'd never seen such unembarrassed, extravagant displays of affection in my life! And you returned it! You don't have to make excuses. You have experienced things they will never fully know or understand."

"I guess that's true," Jane said shakily, mostly because Maura had paused and she felt like it had been her turn to speak. "But I shouldn't have said the things to Angela that I did. Y'know," she said, feeling guilty. "She's always sort of tried putting her nose in our business. I understand it's 'cause she cares and all that, but all the way back from Korsak's office, she kept tryin' to make excuses to me about Tommy's behavior. There ain't none. He got drunk and ran into a priest and ruined her carriage."

"Yes, about that," Maura said. "Father Scott isn't in too terrible of a condition. He saw you take Tommy off to jail, and said he hopes the Sheriff will let him out for Christmas. He said it wasn't right to keep him locked up for Christmas."

"Right," Jane grunted. "Did he suggest freeing all the other prisoners, too?"

"Tommy made a mistake," Maura sighed. "It's like Father Scott said: 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone.' You said it yourself, we all have problems. Tommy happened to get caught. I'm sure he'll feel sorry about it."

Jane shrugged half-heartedly. "Maybe. I dunno. I feel worse about getting mad at Angela than I do about Tommy."

"Well, perhaps you can bring her some of the corn bread I tried out this morning," Maura suggested. "You know, as a peace offering."

"Gosh, Maura—pudding pie cake _and_ corn bread? What all else are you makin' for this Christmas party?"

"Well I've never made cornbread before, and I thought it would be fun to try," Maura said simply. "The pudding pie cake is just in case the cornbread didn't turn out well. _I've _always liked my pudding pie cakes. They originated in Boston, you know. Well actually New York, but in New York they covered it with powdered sugar. It was the geniuses in Boston who decided to make it glazed chocolate instead!"

Jane's eyes followed Maura as she went over to the skillet she'd had on the stove. "What's glazed mean?"

"That it looks like this," Maura said, tilting the skillet to show Jane. Jane stood up to get a better look, and after a few more moments of prodding, Maura brought the skillet over to the cake she had already made. It stood on another, taller table close the stove, and Jane was transfixed as she watched Maura slowly pour the hot, melted chocolate over the cake.

"Wow," Jane breathed. "You've got your mother's hand!"

"How do you mean?" Maura asked, careful not to disrupt the flow.

"It looks like her art! It ain't perfectly in the lines, but it looks good!"

"I suppose you're right!" Maura laughed, putting the skillet down once the cake was sufficiently covered. She used a knife to spread it out on the top, but chocolate still drizzled artistically down the sides. "In this case, good enough to eat." Winking at Jane, she stuck her pinky into the chocolate that remained in the skillet, then quickly sucked it off. "Ooh, yes. That was definitely worth going into town for. Would you like to try it?"

"Uh—sure," Jane stammered, reaching forward when Maura extended the skillet to her. She dipped her finger into some of the chocolate and was shocked by how much she loved the bitter taste. "Whoa!" she laughed, swiping a bit more with her other index finger just as Maura was trying to pull away. "This is incredible! How much did it cost?"

"About three dollars."

Jane raised her eyebrows as she licked off more of the chocolate from her finger. "Three dollars a pound? Wow."

"Per quarter pound, actually."

"What? No wonder it's so good!"

Maura smiled at Jane's enthusiasm, which was so high that she had inadvertently trailed some of the chocolate from her lip towards her cheek. "Jane, you've got some… there," Maura said, gesturing to the spot on her own face.

"Oh, I do? Here?" Jane asked, touching her nose with her still-dirty finger. When Maura laughed and shook her head, Jane moved it to her chin, then under one of her eyes. "Here? How about here?"

"You're ridiculous," Maura chuckled.

She licked her thumb and used it to brush away the remnants of chocolate that Jane had smeared all over her face, unconscious of the fact that she licked her lips in the process. They had leaned towards each other slightly to complete this action, and once Maura was done and had lowered her hand, they were close enough to smell the chocolate on each other's breath. Maura felt herself growing hot as Jane's eyes traveled down to her lips before she closed them and gave her head a little shake. _Why are you looking at her mouth, Rizzoli? Get chocolate from the skillet, not her mouth. Or you know what, neither. You've had enough_.

"Here," Maura said suddenly, taking a piece of hot cornbread and practically shoving it in Jane's hand. "Try this and tell me what you think."

"Wow, Maura, this is really good," Jane said through a mouthful of bread. "Mr. Fairfield's a lucky man to be getting married to such a good cook!"

"Well technically, it's baking," Maura said. "But thank you. I wish he appreciated it as much as you appear to."

Giving her an incredulous look, Jane said, "He don't appreciate the food you make? He must be spoiled, then. I ain't ever tasted something this good in my whole life, honest. Can I really take some to Angela?"

"Of course."

So with a plate of cornbread in her hand, Jane headed out the front porch of the house. But before she could say goodbye, she turned to look back at Maura. "Uh… Maura? I do think I should say somethin' else. You're too nice to me. I ain't got the right to be mad at Tommy for acting out when he was drunk, after what I done to you when I was drunk. I still can't …I can't believe how gracious you were."

"It was hard at first," Maura admitted. "But then I thought of what Father Scott mentioned: 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.' Do you remember the rest of the story?" When Jane shook her head, Maura explained, "Christ turned to the adulteress and told her she was forgiven, and to 'go thy way and sin no more.' Isn't that what I asked you to do? Not to get drunk in front of me again? So far you've kept to that promise, and I don't foresee you breaking it any time soon."

"I never will," Jane said quickly.

"Then just extend that mercy towards Tommy, and your family will be blessed by it. I truly believe that."

Jane just smiled a little uneasily, and walked all the way back to Angela's new tavern. The place had been decorated beautifully for the town party tomorrow—Jane really had to hand it to Frankie and Tommy, who she was sure had gotten most of it done. Angela was needlessly straightening a tablecloth when Jane came in, and they looked at each other in sad silence before Jane finally spoke up.

"I had no right sayin' to you what I did," Jane said in a low, humbled tone. "I was ungrateful and disrespectful to you, Angela. Ma. I should be thankful to have someone like you tryin' to make me and the boys into high-class folks, and I shouldn't have lost my temper at Tommy this morning. And I really am sorry about how much I been gone these last few years. You'll always be my Ma, Angela. And that means you're always gonna wanna have a say in my life, and even if I don't always agree, I oughtta respect that. You deserve a family that'll treat you right, and appreciate the big heart you got." She sighed wearily, setting the plate of cornbread down at the table Angela was standing next to. "I'm a first-rate ass, Ma. And I am truly so sorry."

Angela pulled Jane into a tight hug and didn't let go for nearly a full minute. "Thank you, Jane. Don't beat yourself up, though. We all get mad sometimes, and I know what you've been through. It's a lot to wrap your head around. I should be grateful you ain't gone off the deep end!"

"Thanks to you, Ma."

With a slightly strangled laugh, Angela gripped Jane even tighter. "All I've ever wanted for you, Jane, is for you to be happy. I just spent so long trying to make you be happy the way _I'd_ have liked it. I shoulda learned long ago that wouldn't do for you."

They pulled apart, and in all sincerity, Jane said, "Yeah. Yeah, you should have." Angela just laughed and gave her shoulder an affectionate shove.

* * *

><p>The next morning, the Rizzoli's spent Christmas at Angela's lavishly-decorated tavern with Frost and Korsak. After receiving a personal plea from Father Scott, Korsak had agreed to let Tommy out for the day, given that he promised not to drink a drop of alcohol and would willingly return to jail the next day. This stipulation seemed more than fair, and gave way to the first Christmas the Rizzoli's had spent together as family in five years. Nobody needed to drink to feel high and happy; the special euphoria that comes only at Christmas was evident in spades, and was so infectious that Jane felt her cheeks getting sore from all the smiling she'd been doing. Small gifts were exchanged, but not as freely as hugs. They even convinced Angela to do some piano-playing so they could try their hand at a few carols. While they may not have sounded particularly wonderful (Tommy's tone-deafness was frightfully apparent, and Frost always wound up being a beat off), the spirit was all that mattered.<p>

By the afternoon, the tavern was sufficiently more crowded with more people and more food. And yet, the atmosphere couldn't have felt more different than it had from Stanley's party, possibly because Stanley was no longer there to orchestrate it. When Adelaide arrived, she expressed disappointment in Jane for not wearing a dress, but said she herself deserved a pat on the back for giving her trousers and a dress shirt that fit so well.

"I do look good, don't I?" Jane teased her.

"Not as good as Dr. Isles in that capelet I originally made for you," Adelaide said. "She's very clever with a needle, I found out! That, or she asked someone besides me to put a green trim on it. Anyway, I passed her on my way here. She and Mr. Fairfield certainly are a glamorous couple, aren't they? If their children can sing, the world may be at their mercy."

Jane didn't have time to even smile politely at the joke before Maura and Garrett walked in and she was completely distracted. The new trim on the capelet made Maura's eyes a beautiful dark green, and it went wonderfully with the deep red dress she was wearing. Black satin gloves reached her elbows, and nicely complemented the white sash tied around her waist. She didn't appear to have noticed how closely Jane was watching her, even as she felt herself being led by Garrett to a twig of mistletoe Frankie had put up by the piano.

This was the first Christmas party Garrett and Maura had ever attended together. Growing up, his family had always traveled to New York to spend the holiday with his grandparents. The one time the Fairfields stayed in Boston was the one Christmas Maura had spent in Europe with her mother. This had led to many a Christmas party where Garrett sat idly by, watching his friends or cousins have an excuse to kiss their girls and always wishing he could have his turn. Everyone said nobody would mind if he kissed somebody else—it _was _a holiday, after all—but he had resolved for Maura to be his first kiss and would not be moved on this matter.

Jane's chest felt tight as she saw Garrett smilingly pull Maura in for a chaste kiss, which went on a bit longer than their first one had. When they broke it off, he was bolstered to see that Maura was beaming at him, clearly pleased (not realizing that most of the credit for Maura's was attributable to the happy spirit of the holiday which engulfed them). He reached up and, as per tradition, took one berry off the mistletoe. Hand-in-hand they went to sit down, and Garrett was quickly engaged in a conversation with would-be financiers regarding the economy. Maura finally noticed that Jane had been looking at her, and eagerly waved her over. After some hesitation, Jane did so, nodding towards the piano so they could have a little space from Garrett and his associates.

"Well?" Maura asked, standing up and meeting Jane. "How do I look?"

"Like ya belong on top of a Christmas tree," Jane answered fervently. Maura smiled wider, and Jane was sure it must have been her own ego to think this one looked more sincere than the grin Maura had been wearing after kissing Garrett. _Not that I should care_…

"You're such a dear," Maura laughed. "But this is essentially the same ensemble you wore to the Thanksgiving party."

"Is it? Oh, I suppose it is. The colors and everything. Looks better on you. Hey, so uh …I got you somethin'. For Christmas, I mean."

"What? Jane, you didn't have to do that!"

"Sure I did, you're my friend, ain't ya? Besides, you got me the train ticket that allowed me to go on the best trip of my life. How could I not return the favor?"

"That's sweet of you, Jane."

"Well…I dunno, maybe you ought to wait and see what it is before you decide that." Jane handed her a small envelope, and when Maura curiously opened it, she appeared to be having trouble comprehending its contents. Assuming (correctly) that Maura was overwhelmed, Jane said, "When Frost and I were in Cook County, we saw an advertisement for this troupe that'd be comin' down to the West. It's an opera group from New York, so I figured they oughtta be high-class, like you. That's probably what's bringin' 'em all the way out to Mesa—they wanna bring some class out here, I guess. Anyhow, they won't be in Arizona till the end of January, which I reckon is close to your birthday—but I got ya two tickets so you could take Mr. Fairfield with ya. And I don't mind sayin' it was a bit of a buck, so that'll have to be your Christmas _and_ your birthday present in one, if that's all right."

Maura felt about ready to cry: she had seen this company with her father and loved them beyond all reason. For a few moments she tried vainly to grasp the right words to convey her emotions, but failed miserably. She looked so upset at her inability to articulate anything that Jane briefly worried she didn't like the gift.

But then Maura finally said, "I can't think of the right words, Jane, I really can't. This is—it's so unexpected, it's so…" She took a shaky breath. "You're so wonderful! I can't believe you did that!"

"Well, I just figured it might be somethin' you'd be interested in," Jane said, obviously pleased that her gift had elicited this response. "I see you ain't got any pockets. Want me to hold onto the tickets for ya tonight?"

"Thank you," Maura said, handing the envelope back to Jane. "Oh Jane—I really, I just really am so overwhelmed! I could kiss you!"

"Oh, there's no need for that," Jane chuckled warily, tucking the envelope back into her pocket. "Although speakin' of kissing, I noticed you, uh… you kissed Mr. Fairfield right here just now. In front of everybody."

"Yes, I did. Are you surprised? Haven't people been kissing here already, taking the berries?"

"Er…I suppose they have, yeah. I just didn't know why."

"Jane! You've never seen mistletoe before?"

"No. What is it?"

"Well, it's a tradition dating back to Norse mythology," Maura explained. "The goddess Frigg had a son named Baldr, and when he was born, Frigg made all plants unable to hurt him."

"That…seems like a very odd thing to do."

"It's mythology," Maura said, waving her hand as if this explanation made everything all right. "Anyway, she overlooked the mistletoe plant, and a mischievous god named Loki tricked another god into killing Baldr with a spear made of mistletoe. After such a terrible tragedy, Frigg declared that mistletoe would bring love rather than death into the world. So, people began kissing under the mistletoe to obey the goddess."

Glancing up at the tiny bush, Jane said, "How nice."

"I suppose it's something of a Christmas tradition because of the colors," Maura said. "The red and green. When you kiss someone, you're supposed to take off a berry. I suppose that might symbolize Baldr's death …although that's not a very romantic idea, is it?"

"Hardly," Jane chuckled. "Hm—just one left. I wonder who the lucky girl will be."

"Well if you don't watch out, I think it'll be you," Maura said, glancing over Jane's shoulder. "Don't look now, but Deputy Grant is on his way over here, and I think he knows better than to try anything with me."

"How close is he?" Jane asked through his teeth.

"You could still get away, I think," Maura said. "Or…" She stepped up and gave Jane a quick kiss to the cheek. "Look at that!" she laughed, reaching up to pick the last berry off the tiny bush. "No more mistletoe. What a shame." Her grin widened at the sight of Jane's flustered smile. "Merry Christmas, Calamity Jane."

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Isles."


	35. Slum and Recoil

**A/N**: To address some general questions...my goodness, people, no! That was not their first kiss. Well I mean, it was a kiss, but not the one I said I've been planning. I wouldn't say I'd been planning on their first kiss and then get it over with in one line. What a terrible build-up _that _would be. As for other complaints, I can't really address them other than to say I'm sorry about the slow burn, but at the same time, I'm really not. It just feels right, and a number of you seem to agree, which I'm grateful for. Thank you for being so patient. Things will be happening soon. Also, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes- generally I catch them, but they often slip in. Usually I correct them within a couple days (which is lazy, I know). Sorry about that! (Oh, and thanks to **Reallybigpineapple **not only for having an awesome username, but for correcting my Norse mythology!)  
>Fun fact: I learned the word "slumming" came into use in 1884, which is when this story is set. Win! (as you'll see.)<p>

* * *

><p>By the time New Years Eve rolled around, Maura and the Rizzoli's had gotten through three-quarters of <em>Treasure Island<em>, Jane had written an entire letter to (the still-incarcerated) Tommy on her own with no spelling errors, and Bass had finally grown into the new crate Jane had built for him. In what would quickly become known as the Christmas Creek miracle, Maura revived the banker who had been on death's door for weeks, and people were regarding her as a town hero. Garrett was naturally proud of this accomplishment, but was starting to think more about the implications of it.

A few men were beginning to ask Garrett whether it wasn't somewhat emasculating to be engaged to such an independent woman. She was renowned and admired, while her skills (unlike Garrett) were just as visibly apparent as they were needed, so in general people were always more impressed with her than they were with him. Garrett wasn't so proud that he resented Maura's acclaim—but he was starting to worry that maybe she was getting a little too free-minded. She didn't talk to him about things like she used to; it hadn't been so much asking permission to do things or go places, but she had at least run things by him. Now he might spend thirty minutes looking for her before finally finding her at the jail of all places, sitting outside Tommy's cell, reading him and his siblings (and inmates) a book about pirates. It wasn't behavior becoming of a lady. In Boston, Maura hadn't always conformed perfectly, but her actions had been mostly harmless. Some of her behavior _now _seemed a little subversive.

And Garrett had a pretty good idea who was to blame for that.

In the days approaching New Years, Garrett had spoken to Byron about throwing a party strictly for their part of town. Thanksgiving and especially Christmas were holidays about community and fellowship, so spending them with everyone had seemed appropriate. But bringing in the New Year should be more intimate, a little more high-class. Angela was opening up the tavern for a celebration again, and Garrett got the feeling that Maura was assuming they'd go. He had no intention of this happening.

One night as Garrett drove her home, he conversationally asked, "Maura, do you like living here?"

"Of course I do!" Maura gasped, shocked that he even needed to ask.

"You've made friends?"

"Yes."

Garrett's tone remained friendly and curious, not snide. "And who would you consider your friends?"

"Well—Jane, and…her family, Frost …Dr. Byron and I are on good terms. I've taken to eating breakfast at the boarding house with the same group of ladies nearly every morning. They're… friendly."

With an air of casual suggestion, Garrett said, "How about Mrs. Scott, or her daughter Sabrina? Mrs. Anderson? Mrs. Hughes? Ellen Smith, Mary Hunter?"

Maura frowned slightly. These were all wives or daughters in the families that lived on Garrett's street. Very classy, very fashionable, very kind. Very boring. "Oh, yes," she said lightly. "They're nice."

"But you wouldn't consider them friends?"

"Well...I haven't spent enough time with them to really say."

"Hm. That might be worth rectifying, wouldn't it?" At this, Maura turned to look at him curiously, but he kept his eyes on the road and his voice calm. "My father cares about you, Maura, do you know that? About both of us, and us together. That's why he helped me buy my home here—so _we _could be introduced to proper society, meet the right people and sort of make it known to everyone where we stand. He wants us to start off on the right foot, and I do, too. Think of _your _father, Maura. He wanted you to be a lady, didn't he? Now I'm sure Jane is a nice woman, but she's not a lady. She won't encourage good behavior in you."

"Garrett, I thought we'd been over this," Maura said quietly. "You said you understood that Jane and I come from different backgrounds, different places. It isn't fair to expect her to reach certain standards of societal behavior."

"Yes, I know, I did say that," Garrett agreed, slowing the carriage as they approached the boarding house. "And I don't expect her to change any time soon. I just think—and I think our fathers would agree—that you maybe ought to spend more time with women who… are the type of woman _you _should aspire to be. Women who act properly, speak decently, do… what women are supposed to do."

"Garrett, I'm a doctor. That's not what women are 'supposed' to do."

"Fair point," he said, finally turning to look at her now that the horse had stopped. He surveyed her carefully, trying to gauge her emotions, and deciding that she was on the verge of possibly getting upset. "I just want you to think about the future," he said gently. "Your future, our future, our children's future. You won't be able to go gallivanting around with Jane whenever you want—you're going to be a mother! And don't you want to do it right?"

"What do mean by that?"

"Well, _your_ mother—"

"Choose your words extremely carefully, Garrett," Maura warned him.

"Your mother wasn't there for you," he said in a level voice. "She got up and left and didn't take you into the equation. And I saw the way she treated you when I visited Paris! It was cold, it was distant—she was so wrapped up in furthering herself at the expense of your well-being. I don't want that to be you, Maura. I don't want you to get so wrapped up in your medicine that our children suffer as a result!"

"Well I don't want them to suffer either, but what does this all have to do with Jane?"

"Jane does what she wants; her brothers have told me all about her. She takes off for years at a time, hardly ever sending word about her whereabouts. She's never been married, never had a serious offer, and the way things are going, she probably never will. Jane does not understand our way of life and what it means to be a Fairfield."

"Garrett, what are you saying? That you want me to stop being friends with her, stop spending time with her?"

He sighed shortly, giving her the impression that her guess wasn't too far off, but he was attempting to bargain with her. "Not entirely, no, if you don't want to. All I am suggesting is that you may want to start spending some more time with other women in this town. They already respect you, so you ought to have no problems at all getting into their good graces! Maura, I just want you to feel like you have a place in _our _community. Please. Make friends with my neighbors. Soon they're going to be _your _neighbors, also."

Maura took her time responding to this, mostly because she was a little peeved and didn't know how to answer him. She felt she ought to be upset, but Garrett was trying to be upfront with her and his points were not entirely unreasonable. While she had visited with the women on Garrett's street, she had made no effort to really befriend them or even get to know them, aside from their medical maladies. That did not reflect well on her, and she knew it. Garrett was right: her father hadn't raised her to spend her time in saloons with people like Jane and Tommy, and Garrett's father _had _gone to the trouble of buying them a house in the nice part of town so they could easily make a name for themselves in high society. And besides, once they _were _married, Maura wouldn't live so close to the saloon anymore, and eventually her time would be spent raising children. It was something she had looked forward to for most of her life, and still did, so maybe pulling back on her time spent with Jane would be a good idea.

"All right, Garrett," she finally said. "You have put forward a very convincing argument. I promise to make more of an effort."

He smiled, looking relieved that she had reacted this way. "Fantastic! Would you start this weekend? Dr. Byron is hosting a celebration for the New Year in his home, and we've been invited to attend." When Maura didn't answer right away, he added, "It would be rude to turn down the offer, and I would hate to go without you."

"Of course," Maura said. "Yes, of course I'll go. It will be a wonderful opportunity to get to know your neighbors a bit better."

They parted on good terms, but as Maura got ready for bed, she wondered if she had been too hasty in her decision, too anxious to avoid an argument with Garrett. The civil part of her knew it would be rude to turn down a personalized invitation to Byron's party, especially when in comparison, Angela's was open to everyone and anyone who might stop by. They probably wouldn't even notice if she wasn't there… besides, she thought darkly, the likelihood of somebody putting alcohol in her drink would be far lower at Byron's.

But that had been Thanksgiving, though. Christmas had gone much more smoothly and pleasantly, at least on her end. As she thought about it, Maura guiltily realized she had spent most of the party with Jane, not with Garrett and his friends. That had probably bothered him, but he'd been too much of a gentleman to bring it up. It hadn't been very polite of her, but still, she had needed to stay close to Jane to keep Grant from getting too close.

It had all started with that kiss on the cheek, she realized as she slid into bed. Standing there under the mistletoe with Grant coming towards them, the only thing Maura had been able to think was _you should kiss her_. She had kissed countless women like that before: friendly, on the cheek. That's just what women did, especially in Europe. It was sociable, polite, indicative of friendship. Why, then, had it felt like so much more with Jane? Even though the kiss had been quick (as was customary), Maura had left her lips there a little longer than would have been necessary. She hadn't wanted to pull away, and then she had had to make a joke to cover up that fact.

And then there had been the way Jane had been smiling at her afterwards, as if Maura had just announced that Christmas would henceforth be celebrated every day. _She was probably just relieved that Grant wouldn't have an excuse to kiss her. _

Maura Isles might have been smart, but she was lousy at speculation.

Jane was not accustomed to being kissed like that. She'd never had a close girlfriend past her adolescent years, and since then had spent several more years avoiding women's advances while she was in disguise. There was never anything more than the occasional kiss to the hand, like she had done on the first day she'd met Maura (when she'd been in disguise), just out of habit. Short and innocuous though it had been, that quick peck on Christmas had set fire to Jane's being in a way no other kiss ever had. To her slight discomfort, she had found herself hoping (vainly) throughout the duration of the party that Maura might feel inclined to do it again. It didn't really matter though; just being able to spend the time with Maura was more than enough.

So then why was she still thinking about that kiss nearly a week later?

When Maura woke up the morning after her conversation with Garrett, she resolved to go over to his part of town and spend time with his neighbors. The banker's wife had offered to teach her some songs on the violin. Or perhaps she could follow up on her own promise to help Ellen Smith with her cooking. Maybe someone would like a beginner's lesson in archery! There were so many possibilities, so many friends waiting to be made—really, it was silly she hadn't tried doing anything with them yet. At some point she would probably have to tell Jane or Angela that she wouldn't be attending the town's celebration of the New Year, but that could wait until tomorrow…

Or it could have, if Jane hadn't been standing on the porch of the boarding house waiting for her. Without so much as a preliminary hello, Jane strode over with a thick book in her hands and said, "You were wrong, Dr. Isles!"

"What about?" Maura asked, startled by Jane's unexpected appearance.

"Frigg!"

"What?"

"Frigg, the…Norse goddess you were talking about on Christmas," Jane said, flipping the book open and showing it to Maura. "It's Frigga. With an _a_. Frigg is her brother."

Maura stared at the page without digesting any of the information, still feeling blindsided and a little confused. "Well, I'm sure there are a number of translations available that might have…" She closed the book and raised her eyebrows. "Where on earth did you obtain a volume on Nordic mythology?"

"The bookshop," Jane explained simply. "You know, the one run by Mr. Christiansen? You were talking to him at the Christmas party for a while. He's Swed…onian? Swedonese? Uh… he's from Sweden."

"Swedish," Maura said with a small smile.

"Right. Anyway, I went to see him about getting a book, and we got to talking about what a great time we had at Angela's, and so somehow that mistletoe came into the conversation and he started tellin' me more about the story you started, only he said the goddess's name was Frigga. Or, well, he pronounced it a little differently, but I can't remember how. Anyway, he gave me this book to back himself up, and showed me where that story was. I still ain't great shakes at readin', but I was able to tell enough that _youuuu _were wrong!" She laughed triumphantly, taking the book back out of Maura's loose grip. When Maura just stared blankly into the distance, Jane's smile faded and she said, "You ain't mad, are ya? I'm just tickled at the chance I had to correct someone as smart as you."

"Yes, I imagine it's how you'd feel if I were to out-shoot you," Maura teased her.

"Whoa! No chance in hell of that ever happening, Dr. Isles. You're a bit out of practice. Hey, you know what you _are _good at, though? Baking! And sorry if this is rude, but Frankie's already asked me if I'd ask you if you'd be making more of that cornbread for the New Year."

Maura fidgeted and walked over to the porch railing, turning her back on Jane. "Um… I'm not entirely sure yet."

Jane frowned and followed her over, putting her hand gently on Maura's waist. "You all right, Maura? You seem a little, uh…sad."

"It's just that I don't think I'll be making it to Angela's party, that's all," Maura said in a rush, turning to see Jane's reaction.

It nearly broke her heart to see the level of disappointment reflected in those dark brown eyes, but Jane managed a smile and said, "Well gosh, Maura, that ain't nothin' to cry over! But why ain't ya comin'?"

"Well, Dr. Byron is hosting a party, and he asked me and Mr. Fairfield to come, so…"

Jane's features darkened somewhat. "Oh. Right."

"Jane, please don't be upset. I'd rather be—" _With you. _"I'd rather go to Angela's, you know I would."

"Well then why aren't you?"

"Because…" That was actually a rather good question. "Because Garrett wants me to get to know his neighbors better, and this will be a good opportunity to do so."

Jane's frown became more pronounced as she looked down at the ground. "It's probably a good idea," she mumbled. "You belong over there anyway, in that world. According to Frankie's letters, Ma really lets guys go loose on the New Year. It might not be safe for you to be there."

"That's…not what Mr. Fairfield is afraid of."

"What is it then, me?" Jane asked. "Guess I can't blame him. What well-to-do man wants his fiancé slumming with someone like me? Hell, what do _you _see in slumming with me?"

"Jane, don't say that," Maura begged. "Please think about this. How could you question my desire to spend time with you? I've told you _and _Mr. Fairfield that you were the first real friend I made in this town. I don't regret that, and I don't want to end it. Please don't be upset that I can't spend every major holiday with you!" She sighed, hating that she had gotten herself riled up. How was that supposed to help? "Jane, I—"

"No, no," Jane said wearily, holding up a hand in defeat. "Really, it's all right, Maura. I understand it's been really good of Mr. Fairfield to be all right with ya spendin' so much time with us, and I'm grateful for that. I really am. I ain't ever known a woman as classy as you, Maura Isles, and I consider it an honor that you would call me your friend."

"You're the best friend I've ever had, Jane." This was true, and beyond worth admitting it to see the smile on Jane's face. "And please, let me make it up to you for not coming to Angela's party."

Chuckling softly, Jane said, "You don't have to do that, Maura. I ain't takin' this personally, and besides, it ain't my party. Like you said, it's Angela's. You don't have nothin' to make up for."

"I feel like I do," Maura insisted softly. "Jane, you know I would do anything for you." A lump rose in her throat as Jane gave her the most tender look Maura had ever received. "I know you're responsible for my mother's change of heart. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. I know you talked at the gallery, and it's almost as if she became a different person. I know I owe that to you, and I am forever in your debt because of it."

"You ain't in debt to me, Maura," Jane said awkwardly, turning the mythology book over in her hands.

"Well in that case, maybe _you _would do me a favor?"

That was an unexpected turn. "Uh, sure."

"When you first showed me how to shoot your pistol, I asked if you had a rifle I could try. You said you didn't know me well enough yet to show me how to use it. Do you know me well enough now?"

Jane laughed and tromped down the steps. "You askin' for a lesson right now?"

"If you've the time. Then I'll go visit Garrett's neighbors."

"Got your priorities straight, I see," Jane teased her, leading the way down the street. "Mind if we stop by the bookshop first? I promised Mr. Christiansen I'd bring this book back to him after I showed it to ya."

"Certainly. But isn't that the book you wanted?"

"Hm?"

"You said you went to him to buy a book… was this not it?"

"No, he just showed it me after we started talkin' about the myth. He didn't have in the book I wanted."

"Which was that?"

Jane sped up a bit. "_Little Women_." It was probably just as well that Mr. Christiansen hadn't had it in. Jane wasn't skilled enough yet to be able to read much on her own, but it would've been nice all the same to have a copy to herself of something that meant so much to Maura. She blushed when Maura made it known how touched she was by the attempted gesture, and Jane tried quickly to change the subject.

Within about twenty minutes, they had made it to the backyard of the Rizzoli house, ram in tuck. It was a Sharps rifle that Jane had owned and reliably used for about a decade, and she demonstrated for Maura the proper way to pick up and aim it. When she felt comfortable handing it over to Maura, she slipped off her gloves to make it easier to guide Maura's hands. Once Maura had the rifle securely tucked into her shoulder and held aloft, Jane stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"So you never held a rifle before?" she asked.

"Certainly not," Maura laughed, trying not to drop the weapon.

Jane took off her hat and started to fan herself. When did it suddenly get so hot? "Then Mr. Fairfield ain't seen you at your most beautiful yet." Maura turned her head to stare at Jane in disbelief. "Honest!" Jane insisted. "You oughtta get married holdin' a rifle."

"That might send the wrong message, don't you think?"

"Oh, that's a good point. All right, you wanna take aim?"

"You're going to let me shoot something?"

"Well of course. You look the part, now it's time ya prove you've got it. See that beer bottle over on the fence there? See if you can't hit it. Oh, and watch out for the recoil—when you pull the trigger, the butt of that thing's gonna ram your shoulder. It might hurt a bit."

"I'm a doctor, I can take care of myself if needs be."

"All right, just don't say I didn't warn ya."

All the warnings in the world couldn't have kept Maura from crying out in shock when the rifle _did_ actually recoil, giving her shoulder quite a punch. The rifle clattered to the ground as Maura involuntarily dropped it, clutching the spot it had rammed into. Within moments, she felt Jane come up behind her, putting one arm around her waist and curling the other so her hand could press against the front of Maura's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

It was hard to concentrate with Jane's breath in her ear and in this position—Maura was forcibly reminded of the instance all those weeks ago when they had gotten horseshoes at Giovanni, and Jane had pretended to be her fiancé to scare him off. "It's all right," she said in a slightly strangled voice. "I think I'm more scared than hurt. Gosh, that… that was really something!"

"Yeah, it takes some getting used to," Jane chuckled. "Sorry, I shouldn't have let ya do that."

"I wanted to. And I want to try again."

"Are you sure?" By way of response, Maura stooped to pick up the rifle and settled herself back in Jane's arms. "Okay," Jane said with a grin that Maura couldn't see. "It could help a bit with the recoil if you hold it more like this—and you'll be ready for it this time, so that's something." Her hand trailed down Maura's arm, gently shifting its position as they both looked down the barrel.

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

"You know how you asked me why I was slumming?"

"Aw, Maura, I didn't really mean that…"

Maura wished she could turn more fully, to look Jane in the eye. As they were positioned now, Jane's face was just behind her shoulder, her chin nearly resting on it. "Regardless …now you know."

* * *

><p>New Year's at Dr. Byron's was not as terrible as it might have been, but Maura had correctly guessed that it would be a rather dull, stuffy affair. Still, he had a lovely house, which Maura had learned was the doing of his late wife, a very talented woman when it had come to interior decorating. She had never actually been inside the doctor's house before, and she found herself taking some mental notes on things she would like to do with Garrett's house once she became a permanent resident there.<p>

Nearly everyone on the block had congregated in their Sunday best, the men speaking largely of politics and finance while the women swapped horror stories about more domestic issues which Maura found relatively entertaining. Finance bored her and she knew very little about politics outside of who the President of the United States was. She asked the other women how they would feel if they ever got the right to vote, but only Ellen Smith seemed at all interested in the potential. They were not scandalized at Maura's interest; they just lacked her enthusiasm. So while they listened in rapt attention to old Mrs. Scott's anecdote about the time her mother once accidentally sewed half a flag into her son's blanket, Ellen pulled a chair closer to Maura.

"Do you know Jane Johnson?" she asked.

"Oh, the one they call Calamity Jane? Yes, I do," Maura said with a smile.

"Her brother Frankie once told me that when Jane lived in Utah for a while, she got to vote there!"

"Really!"

"Yes! I've wanted to ask her about the experience, but she makes me a little nervous," Ellen admitted shyly.

"You know, I've spoken to her quite a bit," Maura said. "And she isn't hardly as intimidating as I think she'd like people to believe."

Maura was wrong and right at the same time. As Jane had tried explaining on several different occasions, Maura was really the only one who got to see the puppy dog side of her—the side that had left a note on Maura's bedside table wishing her a happy New Year, to be discovered whenever Maura returned from Dr. Byron's party. Maura had only been exposed to one instance when Jane had been intimidating, and in that case, Jane had been pretty drunk. Innocent Dr. Isles had no idea what Jake Wyatt really had to be like sometimes, an issue Jane was currently discussing with Frost and Korsak.

They were sitting on the porch of Angela's tavern, sharing a jug of corn liquor. Things had gotten pretty loud inside, and they wanted to take the chance to talk for a bit. Frost had filled Korsak in on their progress with the killer, tracking the troupe which was due in town in about two weeks.

"What's your plan?" Korsak asked.

"Get to the girl," Jane answered simply. "In disguise, of course." She furrowed her brow when Korsak just shook his head. "Look old man, I know it ain't so comfortable for you to think about, but Jake's got a real reputation with women. She'll take the bait."

"How long's this troupe in town for?"

"Two nights," Frost said.

Korsak shook his head again. "That ain't enough time, Jane."

"It _is_," she insisted. "If I can get her to—"

"You can't say 'if,'" Korsak said. "You've gotta _know_. And trust me, there ain't nobody in America harder to get close to than a showgirl."

"Then how'd _he _do it?" Jane asked. "This Charles fella, if that's his real name." It was the one Bobby had given her.

"Time. Time you ain't got, Jane. If this girl, this Teresa, is already invested with a man who's got a serious reputation, what's she gonna want to switch over to you for? Why would she betray somebody who's probably giving her everything she needs, wants, and more? You think just because you're good-looking you're going to be able to get any girl to crack, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "That ain't how it works. They don't open up to anyone but their own kind. I bet there's plenty she don't even tell that killer."

"So what you're saying is, Jane should just dress up as a showgirl, right?" Frost asked seriously. "Please, Korsak, tell me that's what you're saying." He laughed when Jane slapped him upside the head.

"Not so sure about that," Korsak responded. "Can you picture Jane in one of those get-ups?"

"Why are you encouraging him?" Jane groaned. "I ain't gettin' in one of those frilly—I mean, have you _seen _those? Don't answer that. It's like runnin' around half-naked. And if I know Stanley, he's gonna want those girls about as nude as he can get 'em. Korsak, I really think it'll be fine if I just go as Jake. That name carries a lot of weight."

"I respect that," Korsak said patiently. "I just think it'd be a real shame if you got this close and then lost your chance because this girl didn't want to talk to you."

"Then I'll threaten her," Jane growled. "I'll hold a gun up to her goddamn head and threaten to pull the trigger if she don't tell me what I want to know."

"Jane, you do that, and I'll lock you up," Korsak said sharply. "I never figured you for the type to go around threatening to kill _women_, after what happened to you."

"Well if she's bunkmates with the fella that _did _it to me, I don't see the problem."

"There you go again, that's another 'if,'" Korsak said. "Your source, this Bobby person. He said Charles was drunk. Jane, you know he could've just been bragging. Maybe he saw this girl in a show and fell for her. Maybe he even tried getting her attention, but maybe she turned him away."

"He'd have taken her either way," Jane snarled.

Korsak had to admit that given this man's history, that was a good point. "All right. But maybe he never approached her. Maybe he just saw the show once and thought she was a pretty girl. Thought it'd be fun to brag that she was in love with him. Jane, I don't wanna say this, but it could just be another dead end. Maybe it's not, but… you can't go holding a gun up to a girl who could be entirely innocent."

After a petulant silence, Jane asked, "How come showgirls gotta be so damn secretive?"

"You kiddin'?" Korsak chuckled. "I can't tell you how many girls I've had to lock up who used to be in troupes. They're some of the filthiest, immoral, uncaring people you've ever met. There ain't nothin' they won't try once, and most of 'em don't stop at just once. They've got to keep each other safe, you understand? They've got to keep _themselves_ safe if they want to keep on livin', keep on workin'."

"Well…what do we do, then?"

The three of them sat in thoughtful silence for a while, until Frost finally spoke up: "I still think you oughtta go as Jake. We'll need a girl—we can go find one anywhere, and ask her to join the troupe for a couple nights. You go early to Green Forge as Jake, and tell Stanley or the troupe manager or whoever that you've got a girl he needs to put in the show."

"Yes! That's good," Korsak said.

"Yeah, it could work," Jane agreed. "Just…I dunno. I dunno how I feel about havin' a total stranger come in when the stakes are this high. I mean, if she knew what she was really gettin' herself in for, she might not cotton onto the idea so fast."

"Well you've got to rustle someone up," Korsak said. "Unless you have a _really _good friend somewhere who's willing to do you a pretty hefty favor."

Jane crossed her legs, trying desperately to fight off the mental image of Dr. Maura Isles wearing a showgirl's uniform.


	36. Corset Conundrum

**A/N**: Hm, that was definitely the most interestingly mixed feedback I think I've ever gotten. Technically the ending of this chapter could be open, but I do have a very specific scenario in mind for how I want this to play out. And (for some of you) I regret to say that Maura can't get out of this story completely unscathed. Remember, Rizzlers: Charles Hoyt is the greatest of all Rizzles-shippers. (Well, maybe after Giovanni. But then this story wouldn't pack quite the same dramatic punch that it needs.)

* * *

><p>It had been four days since Maura last saw Jane. Neither of them were out of town, and it wasn't for lack of trying on Maura's part. Although she had been spending more time with Garrett's neighbors, she had always stopped by Angela's first to see if Jane was around or if anyone knew where she was. Frankie said she'd always get home really late and be gone before he got up. Frost also plead ignorance, and Maura was starting to get a little concerned, not to mention bored.<p>

The women in Garrett's part of town weren't actually that dull, nor were they all entirely alike. Ellen enjoyed having someone to discuss suffrage with, the banker's wife was happy to give Maura some pointers on how to play the violin, and Mary Hunter had expressed an interest in learning how to shoot an arrow (albeit an interest that had yet to be followed up on). They were polite and kind-hearted, just… not very interesting. They were predictable. They were friendly, but it felt more polite than anything. Maura had to wonder if her professionalism was keeping her out of their circle, but that may well have just been paranoia. She probably ought to give them a little more time to get to know her.

Still, she couldn't help thinking of something her mother had said. Well actually, Maura had been thinking about her mother's advice a lot lately. But in particular, she felt that Constance Isles wouldn't have felt these women were feasting on the banquet of life. They might not have been starving, exactly, but they weren't going beyond the smallest bites of only familiar flavors.

In the past, this would have been more than enough. Women who were happy to spend time with her, to teach her, to talk with her about things besides fashion? That was practically a novelty. But it was _nothing _compared to how she felt when she was with Jane. Jane always kept her on her toes, always surprised her, delighted her. Her friendship was manifested not only in smiles and kind words but in deeds and thoughts. Unlike Garrett, Jane didn't take Maura's friendship or forgiveness for granted. While spending time with the women on Garrett's street, Maura felt merely that she was fulfilling obligations, that she was making Garrett happy. There were worse things she could be spending her time doing, but far better things, also…

Was Jane ignoring her?

Yes, Jane was avoiding her, but for good reason.

When Maura walked over to Korsak's corral for her first horse ride of 1885, she was greeted by the sound of shattering glass. She was startled to see Jane sitting on the fence on the other side of the corral, lowering her rifle when she caught sight of Maura. A quick glance at the ground told Maura that at least three other bottles had met the same fate as the one that had just been shot, and two remained sitting precariously on the fence. She moved a drastic distance to the side, allowing Jane the room to safely knock off the last two bottles. Gunshots cracked through the air like a whip and the bottles were no more. Jane carefully laid the rifle against the fence and walked towards Maura as all the horses, which had gathered together on one side of the corral to avoid getting killed, slowly started to spread out again.

"Hey," Jane said once Maura was within earshot.

"Jane, where have you been?" Maura asked, looking utterly forlorn.

With a shrug, Jane kicked at some of the broken glass by her feet and said, "Drinkin'." She sighed heavily and crunched the glass under the heel of her boot. "A lot. So I been here, mostly. I'd go home to sleep, but spent most of my time here. I didn't want to… I mean, I didn't want anyone to run into me like this." And they both knew that by "anyone," she meant Maura.

"Why've you been drinking?" Maura asked worriedly.

Jane sighed again and turned away, leaning over the fence and watching some of the horses lazily chase each other. "The killer. We're close, but not. We could maybe find out something real for once, or it could just be another dead end." She punctuated the end of the sentence with a frustrated kick to the fence. "And I swear I'm about to go crazy from it all. I may just about lose my mind yet."

Maura walked up next to her, soothingly placing a hand on Jane's back, and without thinking, Jane closed her eyes and inclined her head towards the doctor. "Jane, please. Tell me what you found out. Talk to me."

"It's a real mess, Maura," Jane muttered.

"I don't care, I can take it. Please, dear, tell me."

The term of endearment always got to Jane. She had never been called "dear" by anyone except Maura, and she herself had never used it in reference to anyone else. The inherent sweetness in the word combined with the unbearably compassionate look in Maura's eyes made it impossible to turn her down.

Jane linked her arm through Maura's and led her the long way around the corral, getting it all off her chest—the revelation that the murderer was following a showgirl, that the troupe would soon be in Green Forge, that Jane's long-simmering vengeance could be coming to a head were it not for all the "if's." That wasn't to mention the "how's." Showgirls were notoriously secretive and mistrusting, they confided only in their own, they thrived on vice. If Teresa was already involved with the killer, they couldn't bank on her switching over to Jake Wyatt. And like Korsak had said, even if she did, that didn't necessarily mean she'd be ready to spill her secrets and his.

"So I guess there's only one thing I can do," Jane concluded. They had gone inside the barn, and were standing in front of a large crate Maura had never noticed before. Jane was staring at it like she was trying to make a decision. "I'll go to Stanley's new place when Teresa's troupe is there. I'll go as Jake, I mean. Take Frost with me. I'll ask around, spread the word about this guy, see if he comes forward."

"And if he doesn't?"

Jane snorted and shrugged again. "Then he doesn't."

Maura hesitated before throwing in her two cents: "I just feel that you ought to—well, as Garrett might say in a game of baseball—you ought to have your bases covered. What if Frost went in and asked after this killer with his reputation, and _you _dressed as a showgirl and tried to ask Teresa?"

With a derisive laugh, Jane kicked open the crate they'd stopped in front of, and Maura raised her eyebrows at its contents. Jane leaned down and took out a small, garish corset and held it up to herself. "I ain't got the figure. Nobody'd ever buy it."

And Maura realized that Jane was right. Corsets existed to enhance curves, to move the fleshier parts of a woman's body into a more feminine form. Jane hardly had curves to speak of as she was so lean; her waist was practically nonexistent, and slimming it further could possibly kill her—and worse, would serve no aesthetic purpose.

For what could have been several minutes, they stood there in silence, Maura gently fingering the garment in Jane's hand. Jane kept trying and failing to come up with a good excuse as to why Maura should put it on, while Maura's mind was on its own track, speeding ahead full before she came to a conclusion that she should have absolutely expected to confound Jane.

"I think you should let me do it," she said.

"What?" Jane shouted, yanking the corset away. "Are you completely, utterly mad?"

With a playful shrug, Maura said, "I don't know that I'd say completely or utterly. I may be a bit mad, though, yes."

"_I'll_ say," Jane grunted. "Why would you joke about something like this?"

"Jane, I'm not joking," Maura insisted, now adopting an attitude of utmost seriousness. "I've been thinking a lot about my mother lately. And my father. The two worlds I was raised in. I think because I spent most of my time in Boston, surrounded by that elitist world of high society and my father's encouragement to stay there, I never really let myself go in Europe. It was like running around with blinders on: my mother could introduce me to any sort of tawdry people she wished, but I just shut my eyes to them and didn't try to look deeper. I was afraid to. It wasn't until Chicago that I realized maybe my mother's friends weren't as frightening as I'd imagined, because—I could tell she really admired you. And you and I are nothing alike. You would belong more with her set of friends than anyone in Boston."

"How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You take chances, you get messy, you aren't afraid to make mistakes! I'm only just getting it, Jane, I'm only just understanding it! All my mother ever wanted for me was a chance to experience all walks of life."

"And so this has made you want to experience the life of a showgirl?" Jane asked in disbelief. "Maura, you ain't making any sense!"

"Yes, I am! Beyond expressing an interest in the arts, I've never done anything to impress my mother, because I've never tried. I never gave her a real chance, and she's never shared her true ideals with me until we saw her in Chicago! I know what's in my future, my ultimate future—it's in Garrett's part of town, with the women who've never looked past their front gates except to move out here! I want what you have, Jane, I want your _joie de vivre_!"

"My what?"

"Your passion for living! My mother was right, I only have a limited time left to explore it, before I get married and I—I can't!"

Jane dropped the corset and grabbed both of Maura's shoulders in an effort to calm her down. "Maura, you don't understand what you're doing. You can't have a passion for living if there's a chance you could _die_. I don't want you to—"

"This isn't just about me, Jane, it's about you, too! You're drowning, and I want to help you!"

"Drowning? What're you talking about? I—I didn't tell ya all of this as some long way of asking for your help!"

"No, no, see, it's something my father used to say when he was training me to anticipate illnesses or other problems people might have," Maura explained. "Say you're in a rowboat, and you come upon a person who is drowning. Would you ask if they needed help, or would you jump in and save them from the water? Telling someone 'let me know if I can help,' no matter how well-intentioned or frequently said, is really no help at all."

Still loosely holding Maura's shoulders, Jane slowly shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Jane, I told you I'd do anything for you. And now I'm offering my help in this particular circumstance because I know you would never ask me to do this."

"You're damn right I wouldn't!" Jane hissed. "It's too dangerous, Maura! If this man really shows up, what if he hurt ya? Hell, what if he _killed _ya?"

"He wouldn't, Jane! You said he only goes after couples, and besides, you're being paranoid! Why would he even pay me any attention at all?"

Jane's grip tightened. "Maura, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Even a blind man would notice ya."

"You're not making sense, Jane," Maura said, that last sentence throwing her so much that she overlooked the compliment. "And I have no intention of letting him see me, anyway. The girls must congregate somewhere before they go on stage, correct? Where only they, and possibly the proprietor, are allowed?"

"Well—yes—"

"So I'll go there and I'll stay there. I'll talk to Teresa, and then, I don't know, trip myself before they go out to perform or something. They'll assume I'm too hurt to go on, and that will be that."

"You've really given this thought, haven't you?" Jane sighed. "But I can't do it. I can't let ya do it. There's still too much of a risk." She let her hands slide down Maura's arms before settling in the doctor's own hands, interlocking their fingers. Her voice was little more than a shaky breath when she confessed, "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, Maura. You're …the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

The sentiment left Maura speechless from its sheer unexpectedness and also the instant realization that no one had ever spoken those words to her before. Jane rested her forehead on Maura's, and Maura felt her eyes close at the sensation of Jane's breath breaking against her face. After a few moments in this position, Jane shifted her head next to Maura's and embraced her tightly, grasping one hand in her gentle curls.

"This ain't your fight, Maura," she whispered. "It's mine."

It took a short while for Maura to regain the ability to speak. "Jane, you don't understand. You mean—you mean more to me than anyone I've ever known. You've helped me more, you've shown me more, sometimes I even think you've loved me more than anyone I've ever known."

At this, Jane pulled back, though her arms hung loosely around Maura's waist. "I've always wanted a sister," she said awkwardly. "Someone I could love… like a sister." She could say that as much as she wanted, but it wouldn't change how strongly she was starting to believe her feelings went deeper than that.

"So have I," Maura returned. "Why do you think I loved _Little Women _so much? Jane, think if our roles were reversed. Imagine if my father hadn't died of natural causes, imagine he'd been killed. Imagine you were the only person I could trust to help me. Would you even wait for me to ask, or would you offer right away?"

"In a heartbeat, but—"

"But nothing! How is this different?"

"Because _we're _different, Maura!" Jane persisted, taking a step back. "I've had to fight for my life before. I've come up against my fair share of villains, of cutthroats, of rogues! I've been on death's door, I've had to kill men to save myself, I've taken it—I've taken the scenic route to hell! And I'll be damned if I let you anywhere near it for my _worthless_ sake!"

"There's that word again!" Maura cried, starting to get annoyed. "Jane, you are not worthless! Not to me, not to a wealth of people! And you're talking as though I expect to corner this man myself and threaten him. I don't! All right, the costume may be risqué, but nobody will see me in it but the other girls! That's fine, I've done that, I've been seen in less by countless other women! Maids, neighbors, friends, getting ready for a day or a dance."

"Not women like these," Jane growled. "They're vulgar. They'll be rude to you."

"I've spent sufficient time in Paris, Jane. I'm accustomed to rudeness."

It was (partly) intended as a joke, but all Jane caught was the impish attitude she felt had no place in their current conversation. "Good Lord, Maura! Be serious!"

"I _am_, how can I prove it to you?" Although Jane's arms were still crossed and she was shaking her head, Maura sensed the woman's resolve was beginning to crumble, at least slightly. "Jane, listen. I would not be in any real danger. You go to Stanley dressed as Jake Wyatt and tell him you insist on my performing there with Teresa's troupe. You or Frost will escort me to their dressing room, where there will be no one except the other girls—if it'll make you happy, I'll even search the room or let you do it to make sure no men are hiding there. And if there is, we'll call it off and I'll leave. But if it's clear, Frost can wait outside the door and make sure nobody comes in. Ask Stanley to double the security if you feel it's warranted. I'll talk to Teresa while they all get ready and I'll try to find out what I can. When the time comes for them to go on stage, I'll trip and say I'm too hurt to go on. None of the men will ever see me. I'll even wear a robe if Frost takes me up so _he _won't see me. Then he or you can take me home whenever you feel it's time to leave. I'll always be with someone. I'll always be protected." Jane only looked up at her when Maura stepped forward and gently cupped her cheek. "Don't be proud. Let me do this for you."

"I've already told ya," Jane whispered. "I ain't sayin' no because of my pride. I don't want you to have to leave the safety of your world."

"What world? Garrett's world, my father's world? What about my mother's world? I grew up with nothing but my father's disdain for it, never questioning his attitude and always suspicious of my mother's. She once snuck me into the Moulin Rouge, Jane!" When this elicited no surprised response, Maura sighed and said, "Believe me. Anything I might see in Green Forge would pale in comparison to anything I was exposed to there."

Jane's eyes widened as she tried to visualize what Maura might have seen at this place. "That don't matter, Maura. What about Stanley, what if _he_ sees ya? He'll recognize you!"

With a smirk, Maura bent down and took a red-colored wig out of the same crate that the corset had been in. "I daresay this looks rather realistic. Another casualty of some poor traveling troupe accosted by Jake Wyatt?"

"Maura—"

"I should think this, along with a bit of face paint, would make me a bit unrecognizable, particularly to someone who knew me as little as Stanley," Maura said casually. "And if you're really that worried, Jane, just tell him not to look at me too closely." Her eyes traveled down to the pistol holstered at Jane's hip, and they lingered there before slowly traveling back up to Jane's eyes. "I get the feeling you're pretty good at getting people to do as you say."

Jane gulped and leaned back a bit. "Careful, Maura. Flattery won't get you nowhere."

"I just think you're overreacting," Maura said. "If you're worried about corrupting me, you've already done that. You've taught me how to shoot, you've gotten me to swear, you taught me how to play cards, you had me smoke one of your cigars, and you even got me to wear pants! At this point, I hardly think baring a little skin to some other women is hardly the most salacious thing I've done."

Maura's outlook on the situation was starting to wear down her friend's resistance, and Jane was finally even able to manage a smile. She couldn't believe Maura's tenacity, and eager as she was to accept it, she still felt hesitant. "It ain't those other women I'm worried about, Maura."

"Well I can't see who else you _would _be worried about, as I've already outlined a pretty good plan to keep me from having to interact with anyone else." When Jane still seemed reluctant, Maura said in a more gentle tone, "Please, Jane. You've done so much to help me."

"I never risked my life for ya," Jane pointed out.

"You chased down the man who stole Garrett's money for me," Maura responded.

"Okay, well what about lying?" Jane asked, going for a different tack. "You said you can't lie. How could ya tell those girls you were one of 'em?"

Maura shrugged. "I wouldn't. You would. Or you'd tell Stanley, at least. All I have to do is show up in costume, and I won't have to actually say anything about it."

"They're going to ask you things. They'll ask where you've worked before, where you've performed before."

"Well, I'll tell them. I've worked all over the world. Not as a dancer, but still. They don't need to know that."

Jane wearily shook her head. "You ain't gonna take 'no' for an answer, are ya?"

"Glad you're finally catching on."

"Dammit, Maura, be serious," Jane muttered again. She folded her arms and looked her friend steadily in the eye, waiting for her to crack, to change her mind, to realize the insanity of her request. When Maura did nothing but smile back at her, Jane huffed and said, "You do not leave their changing room, and you do not go inside it until Frost and I have both searched it thoroughly. If it looks all right, Frost does not leave his post outside that room, and I get at least two other trustworthy men to guard it with him. You are never alone, especially not with Teresa. You are disguised beyond recognition and give no one your real name. You carry either a knife or a two-barrel pistol." Her tone was dark and unrelenting as she walked Maura up against one of the stable doors, and Maura felt herself getting flushed under the intensity of Jane's gaze. "And after all that," Jane finished, "I still ain't sayin' yes."

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Maura asked. "Try on that corset?"

Jane blinked and then glanced over her shoulder to look at the forgotten garment. Turning back to Maura, she asked, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well it might prove at least part of the depth of my dedication," Maura said. "That isn't a regular corset, Jane. It's more akin to a medieval torture device than clothing."

"Is it safe to wear?" Jane asked skeptically.

"I believe my medical expertise will come in handy in that regard. I know my limits."

And then she started unbuttoning her jacket. "Maura! What're ya doing?" Jane almost shouted.

"I'm going to try on that corset," Maura answered simply.

"What—in here? It's filthy! Your clothes are gonna to get dirty!"

"They're my riding clothes, so I already came with the assumption that they would," Maura said, shrugging off the jacket and putting it on a nearby outcropping nail. "Did you not notice I'm wearing my riding pants?"

"You're—but that's a skirt."

"I know. Adelaide's very clever, and she showed me how to convert it, see?" Maura asked, tucking the material between her legs to show Jane what it would look like if the skirt was in its split form. "It makes getting dressed to ride much easier. Would you bring over the corset and shut the door? It would be a bit awkward if someone were to walk in at this point, not that anyone really comes up here."

Jane slowly turned on her heel and headed over to the door of the barn, muttering "this is crazy" under her breath several times. Why was she allowing this behavior? This couldn't go anywhere. No matter how many precautions they took, it would still be too dangerous to allow Maura to come along… right? _Right. Yes. _She closed the doors and lowered the plank that worked as a lock, ensuring their privacy. _You can't let her do this. You can't let her do this_, Jane thought, but that didn't keep her from stooping down to pick up the corset.

Maura was now down to her white sleeveless top and pantalets, briefly halting Jane in her tracks. "I'm afraid you're going to have to help me with that," Maura said, nodding at the corset. "I generally wear ones that tie across the front and I can do them myself."

"Uh—I ain't never, um…"

"That's all right," Maura said, taking the corset and turning around so her back was to Jane. "I'll tell you what you to do." She slid into the corset with a small gasp: the silk felt wonderful, if not a little naughty—which she supposed was a feeling she was going to have to get used to, and fast. Its bright red color stood out against her white underclothes in the most spectacularly wicked fashion. Taking a quick breath to steady herself, Maura put her arms around a nearby beam and said, "Ready?"

"No."

She waited a few more moments. "Ready _now_?"

"Yes." Jane's throat was dry as she walked over. "Wh-where do I start?"

"The top three laces should be pulled down when you tighten them, and the bottom three pulled up," Maura said. "So go ahead and start, top to bottom. And don't try to go easy on me, Jane. Pull as hard as you can."

With trembling hands, Jane wound the top laces around her fingers, and after inhaling shakily, gave them a fierce tug. She winced when Maura groaned sharply and tightened her grasp on the beam, but she was quick to tell Jane it was all right and to keep going, and to go harder. Jane swallowed heavily and did as she was instructed, yanking down and then pulling up where necessary. She had hoped that reaching the last laces on the corset would mean she was done, but then Maura (somewhat breathlessly) explained that she needed to loosen and pull on the laces where they crossed over, as if she were loosening the laces on a boot. Then the process had to be repeated several times.

"You have to do it this way, not just all the top at once or all the bottom at once," Maura said, sharp breaths interrupting every few words. "Or else it'll come loose."

"Okay."

"And keep doing it until you can't loosen the strands in the middle anymore. That's how you'll know when it's done."

It took quite a while before Jane felt she had reached this step. "Now what?"

"Take the third," Maura gasped, "and hold it near the bottom, I mean sort of put your fist around the part closest to the corset. And then pull down as hard as you can." Maura was gripping the beam tightly, bracing herself for the familiar but no less welcome pain. She gasped loudly when Jane pulled, feeling as though every breath in her body had finally been expunged. Still, she managed to choke out, "Tighter!"

"_Tighter_?" Jane asked in a voice that clearly indicated she thought Maura was insane.

"Yes, Jane, tighter! Oof!" She winced when Jane acquiesced—they were getting so close to being done now. "All right, the fourth one now—same thing—but pull up."

Jane did the best she could with her excessively sweaty fingers. She felt the hair on her neck stand on end when Maura groaned loudly and hooked one leg around the beam, pulling herself into it. The doctor urged Jane onwards, turning and nearly biting the bare skin of her shoulder in an attempt to stifle the sounds of her pain and what she was starting to suspect might be audible evidence of her arousal. Or she _thought _she was aroused, at least: that area was throbbing again, but to be fair, so was every other part of her body, with a vengeance. Especially her chest—oh, how that hurt! Glancing down at her own _décolletage_, Maura was easily able to tell that this was by far the tightest corset she had ever worn (or she had grown considerably in that area since morning, which seemed a far less likely possibility).

"Are you all right?" Jane asked nervously, stepping back.

Maura nodded, trying to speak. "Just—tie it now, tie it!"

Jane hastily made a clumsy bow with what remained of the laces, and after a few long moments, Maura felt able to stand up without the help of the beam.

She was nearly blind with agony, which was probably a good thing, because it meant she didn't see Jane's expression when she painstakingly turned around. Jane took another step back and felt her jaw drop. It was perplexing: she had seen showgirls in these costumes before, but had never been so singularly focused on anything like she currently was on Maura's spectacular breasts. She knew it was indecent to stare, but it felt near impossible to look away—she had never seen anything so beautiful in recent memory - maybe ever. Her train of thought had barely been allowed to leave the station before she internally chastised herself. _What the hell, Rizzoli? Stop!_

"Talk to me," Maura panted, not noticing when Jane started to shake her head, as if to try and physically clear her mind.

"A-about what?"

"Anything, just—I need to get used to wearing this," Maura explained. "Otherwise—they'll know I'm a—fake—if I keep talking—like this!"

She was starting to waver, and was about to fall forward. The nearest stool was several feet away, so in lieu of a better option, Jane hurried to catch her. Maura collapsed into Jane's strong arms, her greatly heaving chest pressed tightly against Jane's smaller one. Jane stood stiff as a board, not wanting to move until Maura was steady, but that was taking longer than she had expected. Maura's grip actually tightened a bit as she struggled to maintain her current height. Her arms were cumbered awkwardly around Jane's shoulders, her flushed face pressed against Jane's neck and collar. It took about half a minute for her to realize what an intimate position this was. She bashfully looked up to see Jane's jaw clenched, her eyes staring resolutely ahead.

"Jane," Maura whispered, still breathing shallowly. She wanted only for Jane to look down at her without needing verbal instruction to do so, but that seemed to be a long shot.

"Y-yes?" Jane stammered.

"Look…why won't you look at me?" Maura asked softly.

That worked. Jane couldn't answer honestly, even to herself, and she was unable to think up a good excuse. So, she tremblingly lowered her head the slightest bit, allowing her to just barely look into Maura's wide eyes. For a few achingly long moments, they stared silently at each other as Maura waited for inspiration to come. It dawned on her that if she stood a little higher on her toes or Jane bent her head just slightly, they would be in the perfect position to kiss. _Why…would I be thinking that? Oh stop, Maura, stop! _Jane gulped noticeably, wishing she could will her hands to stop shaking, as they were resting on Maura's lower back and the doctor could surely feel them trembling.

Finally, Maura spoke the words that would eventually change everything: "You look as though you're going to kiss me."

Jane took a step back. Maura hadn't been jesting or joking around; her tone indicated an honest observation. Her eyes, though, were far from so impersonal. There was sort of a defiance there, as if her statement had been a challenge, a dare to Jane. Maura hadn't intended for those words to sound so sensual, but her filter had just shut off and she was unable to pass off the remark as a teasing one, the way she had meant for it to sound.

After a long silence, Jane came up with, "Well it only looked that way 'cause you were holdin' on to me so tight, ya weakling! I thought you said you'd worn corsets before."

"I told you, nothing like this," Maura said, unable to summon sufficient breath to laugh along with Jane. "Keep talking—keep making me talk."

"Well…_if _you did this, you'd need a different name," Jane said.

"All right. I was almost named Marion, for my grandmother."

"Okay. Okay. Marion. And you'd have to pick a vice."

"A vice?"

"Yes. There ain't no such thing as a virtuous showgirl, Maura. And if we can avoid it, I'd like to distance myself from you. As Jake, I mean. Sure it'd be great cover, but I don't think it'd be a good idea." She closed her eyes and turned around, unable to keep looking at Maura when the woman was so clearly suffering. "And that's only _if _I allowed you to keep going with this crazy notion that you're coming along. You understand I still haven't approved of it."

Maura started taking small steps across the barn floor, recognizing that it was getting marginally easier to breathe and to navigate space in the corset. "I still think we've outlined enough rules to keep me safe."

Stealing one more glance at Maura, Jane quickly reverted her gaze to the floor again. Keeping Maura safe was one thing. To be honest, at this point, Jane was starting to get more worried about how she herself might act if she ever had to see Maura in that costume again.

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><p><strong>AN disclaimer**: Yes, I am the worst of all teases. Sorry! I'm starting to think that may be part of the reason why I update so frequently... I feel guilty about prolonging the Rizzles, so I post new chapters quicker to make it feel like it's coming sooner! Your patience and reviews are really appreciated!


	37. A Doctor Walks Into a Bar

**A/N**: Bit of a break there. Here's a long chapter to make up for it. Hope I don't lose any credibility for what goes down. Thank you again for your much-appreciated patience.

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><p>For years and years, over countless escapades, Jane had had to mentally prepare herself every time she thought she was close to taking on her parents' killer. It involved rigorous self-discipline, but never fear. The prospect of being near him never frightened her, it excited her. She was thrilled by the potential of trapping him, catching him, maybe killing him. Even if she never got him, she looked forward to being Jake, to driving fear and awe into the hearts of others. It was a real rush.<p>

But right now, she was plum terrified, a feeling she never associated with Jake Wyatt. Oh, but she was feeling it in spades now for Maura's sake.

They had gone over the plan an innumerable amount of times, dozens more iterations than was even close to necessary, but Jane didn't want to take any chances—that is, any more than they already were just by allowing Maura to come along. Maura would not be talked of it, and threatened never to speak to Jane again if Jane forged ahead without her. Jane begged her to really think about it, and promised to be more than all right with it if Maura decided to back out, even at the last minute. But Maura was determined, and the more she thought about it, the more she actually felt convinced that she would be all right. If things went according to plan, she would not have to interact with anyone but Teresa and the other showgirls.

It had taken a very convoluted explanation to appease Garrett, given Maura's chronic inability to lie and the solid fact that they couldn't very well tell her fiancé what she was really about to do. So she told Garrett that a woman she'd once treated wanted to have her over for dinner in Green Forge, the intimation being that this woman actually _was _from Green Forge. Really the woman was Jane, who Maura had in fact once treated, and was asking Maura to come over to Green Forge around dinnertime. Garrett was pleased that people thought so highly of Maura that they wanted to express gratitude by sharing a meal with her; it reflected well on her popularity and importance. Consequently, he was more than content to give his permission for her to go.

Every morning since Maura had first tried on the corset, she enlisted Melody's help in putting it on again. Jane had said she'd give the brazen thing to Maura once the job was done, so when she explained to Melody why she needed practice putting it on, Maura said she was planning to wear the scandalous garment on her wedding night (which Maura supposed she would now have to do). Delighted that Dr. Isles had indulged such a salacious secret with her, Melody was only too happy to lace Maura up every morning and engage in conversation with her for half an hour or so, occasionally bringing food. As they days went by, Maura gradually got accustomed to wearing the corset, until she finally reached the point where she could speak without gasping.

Meanwhile, Jane had gone to Green Forge a couple of days early to set up base and give Stanley a talking-to. As she had expected, he was eager to comply with Jake's demand that his girl be allowed to perform with Teresa's troupe—he was thrilled for the opportunity to brag that Jake Wyatt had been to his tavern. That was the kind of publicity that couldn't be bought, so bringing in Jake's girl for one night was a considerably small price to pay.

The only person besides Jane who really knew what Maura would be doing was Frost—not even Korsak was in on it. Jane had flatly told her partner once that Maura had volunteered to disguise herself as a showgirl, and Jane had further instructed him that he was not ever to bring it up with herself or the doctor once it was all over; or, for that matter, while it was going on. It would be a lie to say Frost hadn't been a bit shocked when Jane had told him this, but he quietly accepted it and promised not to question her or Maura anymore about it. Sometimes he was in charge of their operations, sometimes Jane was, and they both knew never to try and question the authority of the other when he or she was in charge. Frost knew his job in this maneuver was to guard Maura while she talked to the showgirls, but first of all to get her to Green Forge safely.

Unfortunately, Maura had forgotten to tell Garrett that she did in fact have a ride out of town. So at 7:30 on the night of their mission, he drove up to Melody's boarding house to escort her. Frost was already there in the coach he had borrowed from Korsak, and he grimaced upon seeing Garrett arrive. Maura walked out and didn't even notice her fiancé until she approached Frost's coach; when he didn't get down to help her up, she curiously followed his gaze and jumped when she saw where it was fixed.

"Garrett!" Oh no, she was not prepared for this.

"Thought you might need a lift to Green Forge," he said, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

"Didn't I mention Frost had offered to take me?"

"No," Garrett said, drawing out the syllable in a steely tone. "I assumed the responsibility would fall to your fiancé."

In her panic, all Maura could think to say was Frost's joke, "Well, you know what they say when you assume!"

Missing Frost's surprised laugh-turned-cough, Garrett said, "No, Maura, what _do _they say?"

Repeating the crude punch line would probably too much for Garrett's refined ears, forcing Maura to weakly finish, "Uh… that… you shouldn't?"

"How very clever of them," Garrett snorted, raising an eyebrow. He restlessly lifted the reins. "Now don't be silly, Maura, and get in."

"No!" Maura said a little too quickly and a little too loudly. "I mean—that's sweet, Garrett, but I don't want you to drive all the way over to Green Forge and back, only to have to turn right back around and pick me up!"

"Well, I'll wait for you in town! I have things I can do there, ways to stay entertained for an hour or two if necess—"

"Garrett, no!" Maura cried, her voice threatening to reach a pitch that it only did when she was beyond anxious.

Garrett furrowed his brow but remained seated in the carriage. "Why are you reacting like this?"

"Because I'm not y—"

Frost spoke up, his voice drowning out Maura's: "Mr. Fairfield, there's nothing to worry about. I happened to mention in Dr. Isles' company that I'm trying to make some money, and so she offered to pay me to drive her up to Green Forge. She was just trying to protect my pride in front of such a financially successful man as yourself, sir." He smiled down at Maura. "It's all right, Dr. Isles. I don't mind. Mr. Fairfield, I'd sure appreciate it if you'd let me take her. I could sure use the money, sir."

Garrett looked over at Maura, who was trying desperately to maintain a neutral expression, or at least adopt the appearance that Frost's story was not new to her. After a long and very tense silence, Garrett glanced back at Frost and said, "All right, boy, you take her. I'll see you tomorrow, Maura." He expected her to follow him as he drove off, or at least to cry out an apology or offer further explanation, but he received none of the above. Frost just climbed down and helped Maura up onto the front of the coach, and they drove off in silence.

It wasn't until they were safely out of sight of the town that Maura felt she could be a little more at rest. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in, and her body physically relaxed from her neck down. She leaned her head gently on her driver's shoulder and waited for his stiffness to go away before whispering, "Thank you, Frost."

He cleared his throat, and Maura straightened again. "You're welcome, Dr. Isles. I… sort of got the feeling you hadn't come up with a story to tell Mr. Fairfield and that you might have trouble explaining yourself."

"Yes, somehow I don't think Garrett would be very understanding of what exactly it is I'm about to do," Maura chuckled dryly.

Frost frowned lightly. "Sorry you had to keep the truth from him, Dr. Isles. I know my opinion don't count for much, but I just wanted to let you know how much I _do _appreciate what you're doin'. It takes a lot of courage and it takes a lot of heart."

"Your opinion _does _count, Frost," Maura said. "For very much—especially considering how well you know Jane."

He sighed deeply and sort of smiled. "You must really love her a lot to do this for her, Dr. Isles."

"Yes, Frost," she said softly. "I do."

"Can I ask you something, Dr. Isles?"

"Only if you stop calling me 'Dr. Isles.' I think I've told you at least a hundred times now that you can just call me Maura!"

He laughed, and that got Maura to laugh as well. She had never really noticed how handsome he was, especially when he smiled. Being clean-shaven for once might have had something to do with that—it made him look much younger. (He and Jane believed that given Stanley's disdain for darker people, he wouldn't have ever paid Frost enough attention to recognize him. Still, taking at least some precautions seemed prudent, so off went the beard and mustache.) Frost didn't feel comfortable calling Maura by her name because she was so high-class and so educated, but her persistent sincerity was starting to wear him down.

"All right, all right, Maura. You don't have to answer this, but I was just wondering. When I cut you off earlier by saying you'd offered to pay me to drive you—"

"Oh, Frost, I'd be happy to pay you if you—"

"No, no!" he cut in. "That's not what I was going to say. I wanted to know what it was you were going to tell Mr. Fairfield. I kind of talked over you before you could really get going, but you sounded agitated. And you don't usually get agitated."

The smile on her face had disappeared as she contemplated how much to confide in Frost. "You're right, I don't usually get agitated," she finally said. "Mostly I guess I just panicked. I mean, that could have destroyed our plans, and I'm so awful at lying." This looked like it was enough to satisfy Frost, but after a few more moments of pensive silence, Maura turned her gaze out to the sunset in front of them and spoke in a much quieter voice. "I was going to tell him I—I had no obligation to him. Yes, we are engaged to be married, but I'm not his wife yet. He shouldn't try to dictate how and where I should go. I don't belong to him yet. He doesn't own me." She snorted a laugh and looked down at her lap. "Listen to me, how melodramatic I am. He's not a boor. 'He doesn't own me,' good heavens, I'm glad you stepped in. I would have sounded ridiculous."

"I don't think so," Frost said after a short pause. "I respect that, Doctor—Maura. Not wanting to feel like someone owns you."

Maura returned her gaze to him as if she were only truly seeing him for the first time. "Frost? Were you ever…"

She didn't know the proper way to finish the question, but Frost didn't need her to. "I was born into slavery, Maura, two years before the war started. So I was still a kid when I found out how it felt not to be owned by somebody. My parents were born into slavery, too, but they didn't hardly have time to enjoy being free. I reckon what you're doing, marrying Mr. Fairfield, that's all right if that's what you wanna do. Jane says he's a good man. You're right, you probably just got a little anxious when we were trying to leave just now. But I don't think anyone could ever own you, Maura Isles. You've experienced too much of real life, of real education to let that happen. And what you're doing, right here, right now? That takes a free spirit. The kind that won't give itself over to anyone unless it's a choice."

He glanced over at her and was startled to see tears in her eyes. "Frost, that's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Well…uh…" He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "I just call 'em like I see 'em." Clearing his throat, he slowed the coach down to a stop and said, "I figure we're probably at a good spot now. For you to change, I mean."

They had reached a stretch of the road that was particularly barren, and Frost helped Maura down and into the covered back part of the coach. There was stowed the crate with her disguise, a hand mirror, and enough makeup to paint a dozen faces. Maura was already wearing the garish red corset, but it was hidden beneath many protective layers that she was now starting to remove. The skirt she'd been wearing had reached down to her ankles, hiding the scandalous black stockings that went up to her thighs. She couldn't help shivering as she slipped on the short skirt that had been in the crate—she had never had this much of her legs exposed, even in front of other women, unless she was changing. In an effort for more authenticity, Maura was wearing nothing beneath the corset but a cotton lining she had handily sewn in herself. It showed a lot more skin, but Jane had made it clear that showgirls weren't shy about putting their bodies on display, so Maura couldn't be either. As for accessories, she wore a simple black choker, black lace sleevelets, and little else. When they couldn't figure out where to hide a weapon on her person, Jane and Frost custom-made a pair of shoes with knives in the toe.

The red-colored wig was the most convincing of its kind that Maura had ever seen, and as with the corset, it had taken a bit of practice to get used to wearing (not to mention getting it to sit correctly). Only having a hand mirror in the coach made it a bit more difficult to determine when it was right, but Maura was able to get it done fairly quickly. With a bit more apprehension, she began creating a fake beauty mark, using a trick one of her mother's friends had once taught her: put a dab of stage adhesive on the desired area (in Maura's case, a little to the left of her nose and down), wait for it to dry, then color it with brown eyeliner. Once this was complete, she gave Frost the go-ahead to keep driving, so off they went.

As they rolled along, Maura found herself wishing she could see Jane just once before going up to the girls' changing room. It would probably give her a boost of confidence, but she also wanted to see Jane in her element as Jake Wyatt. On a subconscious level, she wondered how attractive she might find Jake now that she knew he was really a woman. Those many months ago when they had first met, Maura remembered thinking Jake's handsomeness was breathtaking, to the point that she hadn't even been afraid of being held up. The only other time she had seen Jane in disguise as a man was when they had visited the blacksmith, but that hadn't been the same. She'd only been dressed up so Giovanni wouldn't recognize her.

The enormity of what Maura was about to do didn't really strike her until she and Frost finally arrived at Stanley's place. She grabbed the box filled of makeup and drew a long cloak around her that covered her from head to foot, protecting herself from any unwanted attention as Frost helped her out of the coach. An off-duty deputy who'd been okayed by Jake led Maura and Frost up a staircase in the back of the tavern. They could very easily hear the sounds of debauchery and lecherous fun on the other side of the wall, really giving Maura pause for the first time at the thought of what she was doing. This was real, she had volunteered herself for it, and if a man somehow came over and tried something wildly indecent, her mother wouldn't be on hand to smack him over the head with her umbrella.

"Before I forget," the deputy said, suddenly turning in the stairwell, "your boss wanted me to give you this." He was holding a slip of paper out to Frost, who frowned and scanned it.

"Jake says hello," he said to Maura, handing her the note.

She squinted to read it in the poor light: "_Frost – do not come in to the tavurn. Man next to me has killed over 10 dark men and says he will shoot the next one he sees on site. J._" The darkness of this message was oddly off-set by the post-script: _"if Maura is with you, tell her hello for me_."

"Hopefully he'll get the chance to say it in person," Maura whispered before they followed the deputy up the rest of the stairs. She had finally convinced Jane to let her tell the other girls she knew Jake Wyatt, because she was sure it was not only something bound to impress them, but was also something she wouldn't have to lie about.

They had reached the room where the showgirls were getting dressed. Standing outside of it and eying Maura in annoyance was the girls' manager, Bradley. He was not very pleased with the forced arrangement, made evident by how tightly his arms were folded and the scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face.

Frost stepped right up to him and said, "Tell your girls to cover themselves if they feel so inclined. I need to give this room a going-over." When Bradley raised his eyebrows and looked incredulously over at the deputy, Frost said, "Sir, this is_ not _a request. I _will _be going in there."

And so the girls were forewarned, and Frost spent nearly five minutes thoroughly searching the room. Only one of the girls had opted to cover up; the others didn't seem to care, and many of them preferred watching Frost to getting ready. They cackled and made crude jokes that were already making Maura blush, a fact partially hidden when she hurriedly started applying rouge to her cheeks. She was sorry to see Frost leave, because now she really felt alone, like a piece of meat thrown to lions.

Frost had noticed that Maura didn't look as prepared as she had maybe let on or even felt. It would probably be a good idea to have Jake make an appearance. It would cool Maura's nerves and solidify her standing with the other girls, something it was instantly apparent to her that she needed desperately.

Maura recognized Teresa from the banner Stanley had put up to advertise her troupe's appearance at the tavern, and it featured her portrait prominently. The painting was much softer than she was in real life. Her short brown hair was styled elaborately upwards, leaving her long neck bare. Her eyes were dark and hooded, like she knew a secret about you that you'd pay good money to keep her from spreading. Pouty, full lips were wrapped around a black cigar, which Teresa pulled out in a nearly obscene manner, issuing a thick stream of smoke directly into Maura's newly-made up face.

"So…_who _are you?" she asked, sounding bored.

"You can call me Marion," Maura said, trying not to let her voice tremble.

"And you can call me the Queen of Sheba," Teresa snorted to the amusement of some of the other girls. Ignoring Maura's outstretched hand, she stepped closer and said, "Our manager told us we didn't have a choice but to let you join us. What's the deal, honey? You bunkmates with Stanley?"

"Certainly not!"

Without warning, Teresa reached for the front of Maura's cloak and yanked it off, revealing the scantily-clad body underneath. She raised her eyebrows, impressed. One of the other girls pinched her ass and said, "Oh, goodness. You could do _much_ better than that Stanley fellow, dear."

"I'm not in any kind of relationship with Stanley!" Maura insisted, too flustered with this accusation to mind the way that some of the girls were shamelessly staring at her. "I—happen to know one of… his patrons tonight who asked that I be allowed to perform."

"I hear Jake Wyatt's downstairs," said one of the girls. "It's not him, is it?" The smirk on her face made it clear she was joking.

"As a matter of fact, yes, it is," Maura said back.

Teresa laughed derisively and blew some more smoke in Maura's face. "Honey, please! You're about as comfortable in your skin as a jackrabbit in the mouth of a coyote. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be dressed this way. What possible interest would a man like Jake Wyatt have in a girl like you?"

Trying her best to look worldly, Maura lifted her chin and said "Plenty," in what she hoped would come off as a womanly, sensual voice.

"Hey, how'd you get your underarms so clean?" one girl asked suddenly, grabbing one of Maura's arms and lifting it up.

"I shave them," Maura said simply, yanking her arm back down. "With a straight razor and soap. It's an easy way to make sure you don't have lice." This was true; as nobody else (excepting tonight) ever saw that area of her body, there was no aesthetic reason to shave them.

"Lice, what's lice?"

"Are they those little bugs that show up in your hair?"

"Didn't Sally get fired 'cause of those?"

Then followed the slightly surreal experience of having a roomful of raunchily-dressed women hanging onto Maura's every word as she tried to give them practical medical advice related to hygiene. Teresa was the only one who didn't seem impressed, and interrupted Maura as she was mid-sentence explaining what to look for in a toothbrush.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked suspiciously. Maura's guilty expression was answer enough. "I see. Did Bradley hire you to come in and try and get us to talk? We don't talk, lady. Not to the likes of you. You think you're better than us? You think we need your help? We don't need nobody, so clear on out!"

"I assure you, nobody hired me to do any such thing!" Maura protested.

"So what, you gonna keep up with your line about Jake Wyatt? Prove it, _Marion_. Prove you're his girl. Go on, go get him." When Maura did and said nothing, Teresa sneered and stepped even closer, lowering her voice so that only Maura could hear her: "C'mon, sweetheart. You show me your rogue, and I'll tell you about mine."

Eyes widening slightly, Maura whispered, "What do you mean?"

Teresa shrugged and took a step back. "Won't know until you prove yourself." She nodded at the door. "Go on. Go out and bring him back, or don't return at all."

Maura looked around at the other girls for help, but none of them were meeting her eye. They knew better than to cross the star of their troupe. So, somewhat haltingly and hopelessly, Maura walked towards the door, outside of which three men were standing. This realization caused her to stop with her hand on the doorknob, wanting to grab a robe or something to cover herself, but she was very aware of Teresa's eyes watching her for any unusual activity. Jake Wyatt's girl wouldn't cover herself. Still, revealing so much of herself felt very, very wrong. She was wearing a long skirt over the short one which was open in the front, showcasing her legs, and Maura tried surreptitiously to pull it around and give herself a little coverage. But there was nothing she could do about her cleavage, and as she tried to quickly come up with a solution, Teresa came up behind her and shoved her out the door, snarling, "Take a ride, faker."

When Maura stumbled into the tiny hallway, Frost immediately stepped in front of her to block her from view of the two other men there. Directing his gaze at a spot near the ceiling over her shoulder, he whispered, "What happened?"

"They didn't believe me!" Maura whispered back, still feeling a little winded. "Or Teresa didn't, anyway. She accused me of being a doctor that Bradley hired to, I don't know, make sure they're all clean! She wants proof that I know Jake!"

Frost was silent for a moment, then said, "I can go get him."

"_No!_ You read that note—you go anywhere near Jake, and there's a chance you could get yourself killed!"

Their problem was solved when the deputy tapped Frost on the shoulder. "Got another note for ya," he said gruffly. "Or for Jake's girl, anyway. Somebody just brought it up."

Frost held the note open, and both he and Maura read it: "_Come on down, honey_."

"This doesn't seem right," Frost muttered. "She wouldn't want you going down there."

"It does seem suspect," Maura agreed. "But I think it's my best option. Jake clearly doesn't trust anyone else; otherwise why would he have sent notes with different people instead of delivering the messages himself?" Though Frost was giving her a wary look, Maura squared her shoulders and said, "I'm going down there."

He pursed his lips, waiting for her to change her mind, but when it appeared that she had convinced herself, Frost slid off his vest and said, "Cover yourself."

She thanked him and held the vest up to her chest, keeping it out of sight of Bradley and the deputy. The problem was that they then focused their attention on her legs, but she passed them before they could do much more than look. Once at the bottom of the staircase, Maura peeked out of the small curtain that worked as a door, scanning the wide room for Jane. Hopefully she would be close, and Maura would be able to get her attention with perhaps nothing more than an exaggerated wave.

Fortunately yes, Jane was sitting at a table quite nearby. Unfortunately, Maura was too gob-smacked by her appearance to do anything about it right away. A faded black cowboy hat was cocked to the side and did a pretty good job of hiding the tight bun of scraggly hair piled on top of Jane's head. The only bright color in her ensemble was provided by a red bandana tied around her neck between the collar of a black coat and white dress shirt. Dark denim pants were tucked into a pair of turquoise-studded boots, crossed beneath her chair. Her signature smirk was in place as she engaged in a card game with the men seated at her table, and Maura found herself going weak at the knees. It was only because she had memorized every line on Jane's face that she could see the woman behind the stage facial hair, the sharply triangular goatee and thin mustache.

_Oh no. Why do I still find her handsome? _

Before she could dwell on this much further, one of Stanley's workers mistook her for a waitress and harshly whispered, "Don't just stare! No one's been to Mr. Wyatt's table in ten minutes, and he might need a drink!" He gave her a shove into the room. "Go to it!"

For the second time in what felt like so many minutes, Maura stumbled into a room, accidentally dropping Frost's vest in the process. She froze for a moment, but with so many other risqué women walking around, nobody seemed to be paying her any special attention. With Stanley's man still standing behind the curtain telling her to get a move-on, Maura took the few strides necessary to get to Jane's table, trying to put herself in the mindset of worldly woman.

"Gentlemen, may I get you something to drink?" she asked in a syrupy voice that was uncomfortably foreign to her. She kept her eyes focused solely on Jane, sure that she wold lose her cover if she looked anywhere else. Besides, was incredibly nervous at the thought of seeing how some of these men might be looking at her.

Jane turned and was not prepared for her face to be greeted by Maura's ample cleavage. It was nothing short of absolutely breathtaking, and she forgot herself. Jane had no idea how long she'd been staring when she glanced up and realized it was Maura looking down at her—and rather quizzically, at that.

"Uh—no," Jane finally said, turning to face the other men. "We're good. Right, boys? We're good?" Her voice cracked.

"I dunno, Jake," chortled the man closest to her, slapping a hand on Jane's back. "I think it looked to me like you saw something you wanted! Am I right, fellas?"

The table roared with raucous laughter, cuing Jane to stand up and shrug off her jacket, throwing it at Maura. "Put this on," she whispered.

Still trying to stay coolly undercover, Maura asked "Shall I keep something warm for you?" in a murmur that made the hair on Jane's neck stand on end. In fact, Jane actually felt her mouth go dry as the men burst out laughing again. Maura continued, "Your presence is required upstairs, Mr. Wyatt."

"Go ahead, I'll be right there," Jane said, her voice nearly gone as she sat back down. Maura smiled gratefully and finally walked away, mesmerizing in the way she did. Jane pulled it together in time to see her opponents were all staring at Maura as well. But Jane immediately reclaimed their attention just by speaking: "Now listen here, boys. Any of you so much as _look _at that girl again, and I'll see to it you ain't ever of use to any woman in your natural born life, you get me?" She glared at each of them in turn, enjoying the ability she had to wipe the lusty grins off their faces. "You hear that? She's mine. Any of you make a move on her, talk to her, look at her—and I can't be held responsible for what happens to ya. And fellas, I sure as hell hope you don't think I'm jokin' around, 'cause when it comes to women, I don't never joke. Now." She looked at her hand and said, "I'm out this round."

She stood to leave, and the man next to her said, "Once you're done with her, though …I wouldn't mind sharin' if you'd like to bring her back."

Jane stared at him, and he just leered back. No man, not even Billy the Kid, had dared to look back at Jake Wyatt like this. Jane leaned down and looked him in the eye, saying, "I'm giving you one more chance, old man. Don't. Even. Think. About her. Refrain from makin' anymore nasty comments or giving her any looks. In that event, I will contain my desire to break your jaw."

As she walked towards the curtain which Maura had disappeared behind, one of the men at the table slapped the head of the one who'd dared talk back to Jake Wyatt. "What the hell's the matter with you, Hoyt? You don't know who that is?"

Hoyt just grinned and needlessly shuffled his cards. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."

When she found Maura behind the curtain, Jane hissed, "Mother of Moses, what the hell were ya doin' out there?"

Normally Maura would have remembered to point out that Jane had sent a note up asking for her, or at least find out who _did_, as Jane seemed rather displeased that she had shown up in the tavern. But she was utterly distracted, unable to erase the feeling of Jane's eyes on her chest, and far from able to get rid of the nervous sensation threatening to shut her down completely that had come with waltzing into that group of men with so much of her body exposed. "I need you to come upstairs," Maura whispered, wary of a nearby worker. "To help sell Teresa on my legitimacy. She said not to go back unless you were with me."

Jane sighed in annoyance and waved her hand. "All right, all right, I'll be right there. Go back up and tell her if I ain't with ya in two minutes that she can kick you out a window." Noting Maura's alarmed expression, Jane said, "For God's sakes, Maura, don't worry! I'll be there!" She pursed her lips and leaned in closer, speaking so softly Maura could hardly hear her. "If you really wanna sell it, you've gotta let me do what I want to ya. Understand?"

"Like we did with Giovanni?" Maura asked, as that was her only reference point.

"Somethin' like that, yeah," Jane said, and Maura nodded her approval. "No matter what happens, remember it's just _me_, all right? You don't have to worry. Now go!"

Clutching Jane's coat protectively around her, Maura obediently hurried back up the steps. Jane asked someone where she might find a wash basin, and he directed her to a small table outside. As she headed for it, she considered that normally she'd have been more upset with Maura for coming down like that (and wtih Frost for letting her), but all she could think about was Maura in that costume. When they'd tried the corset on in the barn, Maura had been wearing a camisole underneath it that kept much more of her chest covered. It had been noticeably missing tonight.

The basin had a dirty mirror nailed to the outer wall above it, and Jane stared at herself long and hard in it before ripping her gloves off and tossing them to the ground. She dunked her hands in the water and splashed it on the back of her neck, then flicked some on her face. It was cool against her nerves, jarring—but nothing close to being able to calm her down. Her face was red despite the cool water that was dripping from her forehead down to her chin. She gripped the basin until her knuckles turned white and still she stared at her reflection, trying to will her face to go back to its normal color. Peering closer she noticed that her pupils were dark and huge, and it also dawned on her that her breathing had become burdened and ragged.

_Calm down, Jane, this is no big deal. You can do this. It's going to be fine_.

It wasn't working. She couldn't bring herself to believe the empty words. Just thinking about Maura's breasts in that uniform was causing a flush to creep up from the base of her neck to her forehead. Her heart was racing like a roadrunner and would not be calmed; she pressed a hand to her chest, as if to physically grab her heart and slow it.

_ Jane…come on…why are you reacting like this? What is wrong with you?_

What indeed. That really _was _the question. Women weren't supposed to feel this way about other women, were they? But what way _was _that? With a shiver, she recalled her encounter with Bobby. It had seemed so immoral, so wrong—but maybe that was only because he had been trying to force something she didn't want. Jane had never felt anything more than natural curiosity regarding what men looked like under their clothes. She had never wondered about one man more than another.

Maura was an entirely different story, which was odd enough because she and Jane had essentially the same parts. But there was no mistaking it now: Jane wanted to know _exactly_ what Maura looked like under all those layers. She wanted to peel them away slowly and see every inch of Maura's beautiful porcelain skin. What would her chest feel like? What did her stomach, her thighs, look like? If the skin that was constantly exposed to the elements felt as smooth and looked as fair as it did, what on earth would the covered portion be like?

In all sincerity, Jane was wondering if this was a result of her living as a man for so long. Was she starting to think like one? Feel like one—lust like one?

Because that, she realized with a jolt, was what she was doing: she was lusting after Maura Isles.

_No, no, I can't be. It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong! _She grimaced and shook her head, exhaling sharp, heavy breaths. _It's not you, Jane, it's not. It's Jake. You're in his head. You're still in his head. You can't blame him for finding Maura attractive, can you? _

She couldn't let herself get too crazy about it, because she knew Maura was waiting for her. Hell, if she put this off any longer, Maura might come sailing out of the window above her head. So after wiping her face dry and readjusting her hat, Jane forgot her gloves on the ground and strode back inside and up the stairs with every air of confidence. Shooting Frost a dark glance, Jane cleared her throat and entered the showgirls' room without knocking. Several of the girls gasped in shock and/or delight, but Jane paid them no mind and sauntered straight across the room to Maura, who had draped Jane's jacket over a nearby trunk.

"How they treating you, sweetheart?" she asked, grabbing Maura from behind and putting her arms around her corseted waist. Jane grazed her lips just beneath Maura's ear. "They playin' nice?"

Between the tightness of her corset and Jane's hot breath on her neck, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Maura to breathe. And focus. Fortunately she still had enough in her to manage, "We're getting along fine—Big Jake."

Jane had to bite back a boisterous laugh at the use of the nickname they had joked about using, and the sound rumbled out as a low chuckle. The vibrations from it on Maura's neck, combined with the heady atmosphere filled to bursting with pungent perfume, made the doctor feel about ready to faint.

"Good," Jane said gruffly, moving her hands up past Maura's waist, ghosting them over her breasts before settling them on her hips again. "Because if I hear that my woman has been mistreated in any way, big or small, there'll be hell to pay." Her voice was little more than a growl. "I don't like when people mess with what's mine," Jane husked, and she brought her bare hands up to caress Maura's only partially-covered breasts.

Neither of them had been ready for how this would feel, especially Maura, who hadn't been expecting any action remotely close to this. Touching Maura's breasts had been all Jane could think about since seeing her laced up the other day, and here had been her chance to act on it. There could be no better way to convince these morally-depraved women of Maura's place among them. Jane shifted her hands so that they cupped only the clothed part of Maura's breasts. Letting out a shallow breath that only Maura could hear, she exerted a little more pressure, and Maura moaned softly, leaning backwards into her as Jane pressed herself forward. It felt so delicious, but Jane forced herself to acknowledge that Maura was merely playing into the part.

"I know you'll be working for Stanley for a little while," Jane said, quietly yet loudly enough for the others to hear. "But whose are ya?"

She squeezed tighter, earning her a small gasp that was music to her ears. "Yours," Maura choked out. "All yours, Jake."

"That's right," Jane said, sliding her hands back down to Maura's waist.

She turned the woman around so she could look her in the eye. Maura's expression was startlingly lustful, biting her lip and her eyes dark with desire, and Jane felt light-headed (and not a little confused) that she was the sole audience for that look. But she didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Just don't you forget it," Jane said, turning to leave. "Don't any of you ladies forget it." Then, tugging manfully at her belt, Jane made her exit.

Chatter broke out the instant the door closed behind her. Maura found herself instantly surrounded, with Teresa practically pushed up right against her. "What did you say your name was again?" she asked.

"Marion. Marion Johnson."

Teresa clapped a hand on Maura's shoulder, beaming, and turned to face the others. "Girls, this is Marion! We're going to treat her nice, right?" There was murmured assent, and everyone started talking amongst themselves again. Teresa grinned at Maura. "Well, well, Marion Johnson. I am very, _very _impressed." It was clear from her tone that impressing her was not an easy feat; Teresa thought very highly of herself. "You may be one of us yet!"

"Jake would like me to be, and I want to please Jake," Maura said simply.

"What is he like?" Teresa asked eagerly.

Maura wasn't great at thinking on her feet, but she did her best to satisfy her newly-fascinated audience: "He is a very… demanding, demonstrative lover." This was true enough of Jane, at least in terms of friendship, that Maura felt she could get away with lying about it. "Extremely possessive and physical. He gets jealous very easily, and he's quite protective of me."

"I could see that," Teresa said with a smirk. "Is he big?"

"Big?" Maura asked blankly.

"You know, honey," she said with another one of her very womanly, very worldly expressions and tones.

Gauging the expected response but still not entirely sure what it meant, Maura tried her best to match Teresa's sensuality. "Oh, yes," she purred. "Very."

Letting out a shriek of delight, Teresa slapped Maura on the shoulder. "Marion, you wild thing, you! I had my doubts, but my goodness, I suppose that's part of your appeal, huh? You look as innocent as a prairie lamb, but that's just a front, ain't it?"

Maura laughed uneasily. "Ha, ha, yes. A front…" She cleared her throat. "Anyway, who were _you _going to tell me about?"

"What? Oh, you mean before?" Teresa laughed. "I just said that in hopes that it'd get you to bring Mr. Wyatt up here. I ain't seein' nobody special, honey. Just that weasel of a manager, Bradley." She sighed. "He pays us good, though, so…"

They were interrupted when Bradley knocked and stuck his head in the door. "Well, I hope you all enjoyed that little visit from Mr. Wyatt, because it took up your five minutes to curtain call! Get out here right now, you're on!"

There was a rush of nearly-naked women to pass Maura and run through the door, and in all the excitement, she had forgotten her plan to stay behind. Luckily for her, another girl tripped over a trunk and seemed to twist her foot. She cried out in pain, and Maura quickly looked over at Bradley and said, "It's all right, I'll take care of it! I know a bit about medicine!" He frankly looked relieved not to have to include this untested performer in his act, and was happy to shut the door on her. The other girl may not wind up so lucky. Before closing the door, Bradley said, "You better be up to performing by tomorrow night, Lola, or you're out."

"Are you all right?" Maura asked sympathetically, walking over to where Lola was sprawled on the floor.

Lola effortlessly pulled her leg in and sat cross-legged opposite Maura. "Of course. I just did that so I could have a second to talk to you."

"What about?"

"These girls," Lola snickered, a slightly creepy glint in her eye. "They think they're rough. They think they've got bark growin' on 'em, they're so hard. But you and I? We're the only ones who really know what it's like."

"How do you mean?" Maura whispered.

"You and Jake Wyatt. Me and my man, too. I'd be willing to bet real money he might give ole Jake Wyatt a scare. Jake's too famous for his own good. He's bound to get sloppy soon. My man ain't a fool. He don't leave his name no place; he changes it every town he goes to. And he's clever when he kills. Wears gloves, wears a bandana to cover his face. He won't never get caught. And he won't never get killed, neither."

Maura suddenly remembered that Jane had made her promise not to be alone with anyone tonight, especially not Teresa—when they had thought Teresa was their tie to the murderer. Lola was definitely the new candidate, and there was something about the look in her eye that made Maura feel distinctly unsafe.

"Is he here with you?" she whispered, slowly standing up.

Lola got to her feet as well. "Oh he'll be gone, now. He said he was going to leave once the girls went on…"

The door burst open, and Jane came barging in, Frost not far behind. "C'mon," she said roughly, grabbing Maura's arm. "We're leavin'."

"But Jake—" This was their chance, this was what they had come for.

"We're leavin'," Jane said in a harder, more insistent tone. She yanked Maura roughly for the door, and the doctor spared one more look for Lola over her shoulder before they were gone.

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><p><strong>AN**: By the way, all the supporting characters except for Adelaide come from the show itself. That's everyone from Melody (Korsak's ex-wife) to Bobby (the rogue cop in 1x10), Stark (the apprentice in 1x1), Teresa (the ho-bag who tried to extort Frankie) and Lola (Hoyt's apprentice in 1x8). Oh, and Scarlett from way back in the day was supposed to be like the bartender from Merch, who was unnamed on the show.  
>I should probably reiterate here that Jane didn't recognize Hoyt at the card table because for contrived and annoying reasons, she doesn't know what he really looks like. And in addition to that, it's been 15 years.<p> 


	38. What Doesn't Kill You

**A/N**: This chapter was brought to you by insomnia and the long, holiday weekend!

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><p>Maura waited to pull herself out of Jane's grip until she, Jane (both of them still in costume), and Frost had gotten outside. "Jane, what're you doing? Why'd you make me leave, I was just getting to—"<p>

"What the _hell _were you thinking, Maura?" Jane almost shouted, grabbing Maura's shoulders and nearly shaking her. Frost took a few steps back, glancing around the corner of the building to make sure no one was around as Jane continued: "First you come down into the tavern after I _told _you not to, and then only nine of the ten girls in the troupe come on stage—that means you were alone with one of them! I told you never to be alone with someone! It could've been dangerous, she could've hurted you!"

Lola's implications scared Maura enough to keep her from being touched by Jane's distress on her behalf and also kept her from pointing out that "hurted" was not a word. "But Jane, she said—"

She was cut off when Jane pulled her so close she could hardly breathe. It was too tight, too uncomfortable to properly be called an embrace; Jane was just desperate to touch her, to hold her, to know she was safe and alive, desperate never to let her out of her sight again. Her grip was painfully tight, her fingers digging into Maura's skin, unapologetic in their rough treatment.

"Maura, listen to me," Jane whispered into her ear. "I shouldn't have ever let ya come. I already lost my parents and it killed a part of my soul. If I lost you, too, it'd completely destroy every chance I ever had of bein' happy again. Nothing is worth the chance of putting you in harm's way, Maura, _nothing_. I lost sight of that because I wanted to let ya help me, and that was selfish." She pulled back enough to look Maura in the eye, and Maura was startled to see tears threatening to fall out of Jane's eyes. "You are—keepin' you safe shoulda been my priority over anything else, because if catching him means losing you, it—it's too much of a price. Do you understand? Maura? Do you? Nod, say yes, give me something."

Maura nodded weakly, but then shook her head in confusion. Jane had to be exaggerating her sentiments; there was no way anything could keep her from getting the man she'd spent over a decade trying to hunt down. "But—why did you send me that note, then?"

"What note, the one about Frost?"

"No, the second one, about asking me to come down!"

"God damn it to hell, Maura, I didn't send a second note!" Jane growled. She released Maura and rounded on Frost, no longer bothering to keep her voice down. "What the hell's wrong with you, boy?" She gave him a hard shove and continued to talk over his weak protests. "Couldn't you see it wasn't in my hand? Was it signed? I thought you were smart!"

Shock was the only thing that had kept Maura from intervening before now; she had never seen Jane act this way towards Frost before. "Jane, stop!" she cried, stepping in front of Frost when she realized he wasn't going to fight back. "He didn't think it was legitimate, but I went down anyway, of my _own _choice! Frost even gave me his vest to cover myself, but I accidentally dropped it before I reached you!"

"Why the hell would you do that, Maura? Why would you risk it?"

"I told you, you already know! To get in the girls' good graces!"

"And I told _you _it wouldn't be worth it if you had to leave that room! I didn't want to have to make you…"

As she struggled to come up with the right phrase, Maura cut in: "That's just it, though, Jane, I found something out! If I hadn't gotten back in with you, I wouldn't have! Teresa's not the one who's involved with the killer, it's Lola, the girl you just pulled me away from—"

"The one you were alone with? God, Maura, are you all right?" Jane asked worriedly, her anger evaporating into concern. "Did she hurt you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, but you took me away before I could really find anything out—but he's here, Jane, he's _here_—or he was…"

Jane's expression turned blank. She looked over at Frost, all animosity between them forgotten. "Maura, are you sure?"

"She said he keeps changing his name from town to town, that he hides his face so nobody will recognize him. And she made it sound like he wanted to meet you, meet Jake."

Jane turned on her heel and headed back for the tavern. "Frost, you protect her with your life and nothing less, you understand? I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go see if he's still inside."

Maura tried to follow her, but Frost silently blocked her path, giving her a pleading look. "Jane, _please_, be careful!"

The best Jane could do was raise her hand to acknowledge that she'd heard the comment. She didn't feel like promising caution at this point. Righteous anger was flooding through her veins, coursing along next to numb disbelief. If Maura's tip really referred to the killer, this would be the closest Jane had ever been to him since the night he'd almost killed her. It wasn't just a vague lead, it was solid hope. _Please, God, don't let him have slipped through my fingers_.

She stormed into the tavern, Jake Wyatt's presence barely acknowledged because everyone was distracted by the show going on. But Jane had eyes only for the table she had recently vacated. All the men she'd been playing cards with were accounted for, except the one who'd been sitting next to her, the one they called Hoyt—the one who'd dared talk back to Jake, the one who'd made a crude comment about Maura. After scanning the large room for him in vain, Jane turned and ran back out of the tavern, looking up and down the dark road for any sign of where he might have gone.

_ I can't look for him until Maura's out of here. _

She'd have Frost drive Maura back to the Creek while she stayed behind and searched.

That had at least been her plan until she heard a wordless scream followed instantly by a gunshot. Jane was off like a bullet and around the corner of the tavern two seconds later, in time to see Frost crouching near the ground with one arm pulled in to his chest and the other flung out, the palm near Maura's hip, still trying to give her cover. Hoyt was standing less than two yards away, chuckling darkly, pistol lazily in hand. Without giving it a second thought, Jane ran at Hoyt like a charging bull, grabbing him around the waist, her head ramming into his chest. They fell to the ground and became engaged in a quick scuffle, Jane banging his hand against the dirt until the gun fell out of it. At some point her hat had fallen to the wayside along with the pins that had held up her hair as she straddled Hoyt's stomach.

"Frost, get her out of here!" Jane said, keeping her eyes on Hoyt. When she didn't hear or see any movement, she twisted around to look over her shoulder. "NOW!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone," Frost retorted, struggling over to Jane, grabbing his bleeding arm. "And I ain't leavin' him."

Hoyt wasn't even putting up a fight; he continued to just smirk up at Jane, who didn't notice. She was looking at Maura, who was crying and looked absolutely terrified. "Get out of here," she said in a soft but commanding voice.

"Ja—what're you going to do?"

"Get out of here," Jane repeated. "Go back to Stanley, ask where the Sheriff is. Get him to come out here, but don't get nobody else."

Maura nodded and hurried off. She could stand leaving only if she would be doing something useful, and getting the Sheriff seemed much more helpful than just standing by in horror anyway.

Once Maura was out of sight, Jane returned her full attention to Hoyt. "Who are you?" she snarled. He continued to just laugh softly, as if this were the most amusing incident he'd ever been a part of. Jane cuffed his face with the back of her hand, and only realized it was bare when he caught it at the wrist. Grinning sickeningly at her, he moved his thumb up to caress the scar on her palm, and she yanked back as violently as if he had just set fire to her skin.

"Ohh, little Jane Rizzoli," he whispered. "You have no idea how I've dreamed of this day, how I've looked forward to it. Say, you know, the beard's a good look for you. I might shave the mustache, though. It doesn't quite suit you in its present state." With one brush of her hand, Jane swept the fake hair off her face, her expression tacitly conveying her surprise that Hoyt had recognized her. His tone and overall demeanor made it seem as though it wasn't her hands that had tipped him off, maybe just solidified his guess. "You look confused, Janie. Don't worry. It's a pretty good disguise. I heard about you, you know."

"Heard what?"

"Heard about Jake Wyatt, I mean. Pretty _bad _character, eh? Only he never touched women. Didn't hurt them, didn't try to take them. And I thought… that there's a man who doesn't have the conviction to take what he wants. Tonight, I finally met you. You think I wouldn't recognize those eyes of yours? Those cheekbones, those lips? Janie, did you know that you've got just about the loveliest face I've ever seen?" he cackled.

"Shut up, you bastard," Jane whispered, moving her hands to Hoyt's throat.

Still he looked unfazed. "Ooh, Janie. I like this side of you. Your friend gonna watch? Then what happens? Do we kill him, do I kill you both…?"

"You can't touch either of us," Frost said, waving Hoyt's gun with his good hand.

"So you gonna kill me, then?" Hoyt asked, sniggering at Frost and returning his gaze up to Jane. "Or you, Janie? You gonna end me, is that it? Tell me, Janie, tell me. You must've been pretty desperate to catch me for a long time. Remember your mother at all? God, she was beautiful. Like an angel. Like you. And your father. Such an upstanding man."

"Don't say another word about my parents," Jane said through her teeth, her voice forced to a higher pitch than usual as her throat felt strangely constricted. "Don't you _dare _speak to me about them."

"Who's the girl, Mr. Wyatt?" Hoyt asked. Jane didn't answer, she didn't look away. "I heard good old Stanley say you'd asked him to put a girl in his show. She's mighty pretty, Janie. Tell me, how far do you take it when you're in this… disguise?" He leered at her, and his expression remained essentially the same even as Jane punched him again. "Not married, I take it? Enjoy women too much? Can't say I blame you."

Jane pulled a knife from her pocket and held it up to Hoyt's throat, finally seeing for the first time a brief spasm of intimidation cross his smug features. "Are you gonna shut up on your own, or do I have to make you?"

"You gonna slit my throat, Janie? You gonna do what I did to your old man? Oh wait, no. I shot him, didn't I? Got lazy, I'm afraid. Go ahead, Jane. Do it. Cut it. Whether or not you do, you're still just like me." His smile returned. He could see this statement had caught Jane's attention, and even though she still had him at knifepoint, he knew she wasn't going to do anything until he had a chance to explain his last comment. "It's all about the thrill of the hunt, isn't it, Janie? You like feeling power. You like the knowledge of being stronger than someone, of having the upper hand. You like striking fear in the hearts of others, because it makes you feel big, important, _powerful_. So. Finish it, Janie." When Jane still did nothing, Hoyt allowed himself another chuckle. "Have I haunted you in your nightmares, Janie? Haven't you been dreaming of this day for years?"

That was just it. Jane still couldn't believe this was real, that this was happening less than twenty miles away from her hometown. It felt too much like her dreams, like it had been too easy to catch him, to get him immobilized. Why was he still smirking at her like he had planned it all to happen this way? Why didn't he act more scared? That was the only way this scenario differed at all from the countless times she had envisioned it happening.

As if reading her thoughts, Hoyt said, "Go on, Janie. Tell me. Tell me about your dreams, how you pictured capturing me, killing me. You probably didn't think it was going to be so easy, did you?"

"Why ain't you fightin' back?" Jane snarled.

"So I can see your reaction when the fine Sheriff of this town does absolutely nothing but ask you to get off me. What'd I do, Janie? Those scars on your hands ain't fresh enough for him to think little old me was the one to hurt you. And if you think he'll care that I shot a darkie… you ain't so smart as I gave you credit for." As Jane cast Frost a nervous look and he grimaced back, Hoyt said, "If I fight back, there's a good chance you could get hurt, Jane. And the Sheriff might not stand for that."

Jane couldn't hold it in anymore. "You unimaginable _bastard!_"

She may have been about to do something incredibly violent, but Frost grabbed her arm to stop her when he saw the Sheriff ambling towards them with one of his deputies.

"What the Sam Hill's going on here?" the Sheriff gasped, trying to take in the image of a masculine-dressed woman straddling an old man while a bleeding black man looked on.

"Darkie here was gettin' out of line," Hoyt said, looking up at the Sheriff.

"That ain't true!" Jane shouted.

The deputy stepped in and grabbed Jane's arm when it looked as though Jane was about to knife Hoyt. Action halted when they all heard a female voice call out for the Sheriff, coming from the direction of the tavern's porch none of them could see. When the woman didn't reveal herself, the Sheriff told his deputy to remain on guard and walked around the corner of the tavern. He was a little surprised to see Maura there, who had been the person to come get him in the first place. She had run upstairs to retrieve her cloak and pull off the itching wig before she ran to the Sheriff, so he wouldn't have to be subjected to her immodesty or perhaps question her trustworthiness.

"What's the trouble, Miss?" he asked. "Aren't you the one who told me to come down here?"

"Yes," she whispered. "The man is lying."

"He is?"

"Yes, sir. He was—he threatened my friend Jane, he was on the verge of killing her if she wouldn't submit herself to him." The Sheriff's eyes widened, and Maura took a deep breath to steady herself. Although this story was technically a lie, it also wasn't; Hoyt had threatened to do this very thing, only fifteen years in the past. "The… black man was trying to save her, to save us. That's how he got shot. Please sir, lock that devil up."

Looking uneasy, the Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Maura's eye. "I dunno, Miss. Are you sure…?"

"Am I _sure? _Sheriff, doesn't protecting feminine virtue mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does, Miss, I just—"

"Then please accept the truth and keep this man from harming anyone else! He is a known, exploitative liar who doesn't care who he hurts. It's his word against mine and my friends', Sheriff. Don't make the wrong decision." When the Sheriff still looked hesitant, Maura pulled her cloak more tightly to herself and felt compelled to add, "I trust you've heard of Garrett Fairfield?" His expression made it clear he had. "It so happens that Mr. Fairfield is my fiancé, and as you know, he holds quite a bit of influence in this county. I'm sure he wouldn't be too pleased if I were to go home and tell him what an abominable job the Sheriff of Green Forge did of keeping his town safe from molesting creatures like this man!"

That was enough to convince the Sheriff of what he needed to do. Maura stayed on the porch as he went back around to the side of the tavern, and she heard him telling his deputy to handcuff the old man. Maura's heart was racing, and not just because of the white lies she had just told. The reason she had stayed back after getting the Sheriff was because she had recognized Hoyt. It took her a while to place him, but then she realized he'd been the doctor who had helped the little girl at the train station in Topeka. Charles Hoyt. The comprehension of it was making her head swim; she felt dizzy, she felt sick. How could it be the same man? _How? _As they had only met once, she didn't think there was a good chance that he'd have recognized her in her disguise, but now, even with her body covered and wig gone, she didn't feel like taking chances.

She turned to face the wall of the tavern, and it was incredibly surreal: out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Sheriff pulling Hoyt away, but she could still hear the raunchy noises coming from inside Stanley's place. Then she noticed the deputy was leading Frost along by his good arm, and she turned around, worried.

"It's all right." Jane had walked up to the porch to stand next to Maura. "Deputy says he's taking Frost to a doctor who'll treat a black man."

"Oh yes, Dr. Callahan, I've met him. Frost will be in good hands." When Jane didn't acknowledge this statement and just stared at the porch floor, Maura gently touched her face. No reaction. "Jane, how're you…?" There was no way to finish that question. Jane had just seen the murderer of her parents get taken away in handcuffs, no blood shed or pride apparently hurt. What could she say?

Apparently, not much. Jane reached up and took Maura's hand between both her own, still fixing her gaze on the porch. She pulled Maura's fingers up to her lips and held them there for several agonizingly long moments before releasing Maura's hand and taking a step away. "C'mon, I'm gonna take you home. Then I'm gonna come right back and watch Hoyt's cell every day and every night until he gets his trial. And then I'm not gonna leave until I see him hang." Maura knew better than to fight Jane on this at the moment, although she did find her monotone a bit unsettling. "C'mon. Show me where Frost left the coach, and you can change."

Maura silently led Jane over to the coach, and Jane waited outside of it while Maura clambered into get back into her old dress. She had gotten so accustomed to the corset that it hardly bothered her anymore, but she was glad to get back into attire that covered her properly. Wiping the makeup off was a welcome relief as well, and as it was too dark to see her reflection in the hand mirror, she spent a good minute or two scrubbing to ensure she got it all off. When she finally re-emerged, Jane helped her up to the front of the coach before joining her there and setting the horse off at a slow pace.

It was several long minutes before either of them said anything. Maura couldn't believe Jane wasn't even crying, and wondered whether she was still too in shock to do so. Personally she thought they should be happy right now, relieved. But Jane looked like a ghost. They weren't driving fast, because Jane was too distracted to do anything but hold the reins.

Finally, she whispered in a hoarse voice, "I'm a real idiot. I was sitting next to him all night, playing cards. And I had no idea."

"How could you have recognized him?" Maura asked. "He wore a mask when he… hurt you. And besides that, it's been fifteen years." She supposed the reason she hadn't noticed Hoyt at the table was because she hadn't bothered to look at him. Her terror at being so exposed in such a public place had led to her forcing her gaze to remain on Jane the whole time she was there, lest she lose her nerve. Would she have recognized him right away if she'd seen him? Probably not; she hadn't expected to ever see Charles Hoyt again.

"He recognized me," Jane whispered. "He saw through me, my disguise." Chuckling mirthlessly, she waved one of her hands. "Only had to see the scars to confirm it." She shook her head and let out a shaky sigh. "I can't …I can't believe it."

"Jane," Maura said quietly, hesitantly. "Would it be completely idiotic of me to ask how you're feeling?"

Jane shook her head and shrugged. "No, I suppose not. I don't really know, Maura. I don't know how I feel. Uh… paralyzed, maybe." She glanced over to make sure she'd gotten the word right, but Maura showed no emotion except utmost sympathy. After another long, awkward silence, Jane said, "I ain't any better than him."

Maura's voice was barely a breath. "_What?_"

"I ain't. It's true, what he said. We're the same. I can't… I can't believe that I never thought about it before. But this man's the reason I've killed men before. Sure they weren't innocent, but I still did it, I still pulled the trigger. If it weren't for Hoyt, I wouldn't have Jake. I wouldn't _enjoy _the power I have when I _am _Jake, because he was right again, I _do _like that power! He ruined my life, my family, and then I only have him to thank for any of the pleasure I've ever had, because I get pleasure out of it, Maura, I get _pleasure _out of being Jake Wyatt. I like intimidating people, I liked how it felt when I got close to catching someone, and that—that's just like him, that's what he does! He made me just like him!"

Maura reached for Jane's hands and gave the reins a tug, bringing the coach to a halt. "Stop, stop!" she whispered plaintively, and Jane made no moves to get the horse going again, letting Maura take hold of her hands. "Jane—come here." Her breath caught when Jane turned watery eyes to look at her, chin quivering and brow furrowed in what would be an ultimately futile attempt to stifle the flow of tears. She forced her voice to be calm, to be steady. It was her turn to be brave. "No matter what happened to you, you are _nothing _like that monster. Okay? Sure you've felt like you had to prove yourself, you've maybe shed blood in an attempt only to save yourself or Frost… but Jane, that's—that's not the same thing."

"I-it's not?" Jane stammered, tears starting to fall. Maybe there was hope for her if Maura really believed this. After all, she couldn't lie.

"No, Jane, it's not," she insisted softly, moving one hand to wipe the tears from Jane's face. "You are just… Jane. You're not him. You never have been and you never will be."

What followed this pronouncement was the longest, ugliest session of sobbing that Jane had indulged in since the night of her father's murder. Her head ached and her chest felt ready to burst with the pressure and the pain of the tears that were clawing at her from the inside-out, burning her with too many emotions to name. It put to shame every single other time she had ever cried in the last fifteen years. Nothing came close. Nothing could broach this feeling that she was about to be reduced to a literal puddle, descending beneath all things. She was sure the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss was Maura—Maura's arms around her, the warmth of her embrace, the closeness of her lips to Jane's neck, the relative steadiness of her breathing. No attempts were made to shush her, to calm her down, to tell her everything would be all right. She simply held Jane as close as she could, waiting to ride out the storm with her. Several minutes dragged by as lamentation gave way to stunned relief, which finally became gratitude.

Jane forced herself to pull away, and saw that Maura had been crying as well. Taking the woman's face in her hands a bit more forcefully than she'd intended, Jane finally managed to speak: "I could not have done this without you, Maura Isles. I couldn't have. You got me through this, and you—you subjected yourself to so much when you didn't have to."

"I did have to," Maura said in a thick voice. "That's what friends do."

"What is, catching people responsible for killing your friends' parents?" Jane asked with a weak laugh, a few tears still leaking out of her eyes.

Maura returned the feeble smile. "They protect each other."

A few deep breaths later, Jane was able to take the reins again and restart the journey back home. Silence reigned between her and Maura again, but it wasn't as uncomfortable now. Jane was still in shock over what had happened, she had to keep reminding herself that it really _had _happened. Her parents' murderer was caught. He was sitting in jail, where the Sheriff had promised Jane to keep a steady watch on him until she returned. Somehow she'd prove what he'd done. She'd make sure he paid for his crimes. Of that, she felt certain. This new, quiet confidence bolstered her so greatly that her sobbing fit felt as if it had been days, not minutes, ago. She sat a little straighter and smiled over at Maura, who returned the grin in full force.

Seeing her like this, Jane was overcome with Maura's delicate beauty. The moon shone brightly down on them, providing the perfect type of soft light for Maura's features: the gentle slope of her nose, the deep-set quality of her dimples, the shining orbs that were her magnificent hazel eyes. Her hair was a little mussed from the wig, yet it still looked beautiful in its own way, as if it had been spun out of gold. _That's probably what an angel looks like_, Jane found herself thinking.

Strangely, Maura was much more beautiful now than she had been an hour ago. The heavy makeup and exposed skin had been visually inviting in their own ways, but Jane felt something entirely different looking at her now. It didn't frighten her as much; it didn't excite her in the same way. This train of thought got her thinking more about what she had done, ogling Maura's breasts and then feeling them …_I had to do that. It was the best way to make the other girls think she was one of them—and it clearly worked! If I hadn't done it, then maybe Lola wouldn't have confided in Maura. Maybe we'd have gotten nowhere_. _Maybe Hoyt would have gotten away. Still..._

"Uh…Maura? I feel like I should say somethin'."

"What is it, Jane?"

"Um…I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"For—for what I did to ya. When I was Jake, I mean." She took Maura's silence to mean that she understood what Jane was talking about, but that didn't stop Jane from wanting to make excuses—or explain, rather. "When I'm Jake, I don't really think like myself anymore. I don't even feel like a woman anymore. I have to make everyone really believe I'm that man, you know? They have to think I'm one of them, that I ain't polite. So that's how come I was, uh—starin' at you that way in the tavern. That's what any of those men woulda done, so I figured I ought to do it. It woulda been funny if I hadn't."

Maura felt inexplicably disappointed. "Oh."

"But then that's also how come I told ya I didn't want you to be afraid when I came up to the room with ya and, er… handled you," Jane said slowly. "I thought maybe you'd be uncomfortable with Jake Wyatt putting his hands all over ya, but if you remembered I was just your friend and just doin' it to get you in with the showgirls, that you'd be all right. Women touch each other, don't they?"

"Not like that," Maura said, feeling flushed at the memory of Jane's hands on her breasts.

"Er—well, right, but this was a special circumstance. I'm sorry if it made ya feel funny. _I _felt funny doin' it, but it seemed like a good way to…" Her voice trailed off at the sight before her. She had just pulled up to the boarding house, where Melody, Garrett, and Korsak were standing. "Maura, do you happen to know what time it is?"

"Quite late, I'd guess," Maura whispered back. Jane swore under her breath.

Garrett stalked over and roughly pulled Maura out of the coach. "Do you have any idea how late it is? Where have you been? Where's Frost, and why is _she _with you?"

"Simmer down, Fairfield," Jane said, jumping out of the coach.

"You stay out of this," he hissed. "Maura, where have you been?"

"I told you, Green Forge—"

"You left hours ago!"

"We—we—"

Jane walked over and wrenched Maura out of Garrett's grip. He looked shocked by her audacity, allowing her the time to say, "For God's sake, Fairfield, Maura didn't do nothin' wrong. I happened to be in Green Forge already and spent time with Frost while Maura was havin dinner. Then there was a medical emergency, and if Maura hadn't been nearby to help out, Frost coulda lost his life."

Garrett bit the inside of his cheek and glared Maura down. "Is that true?" he asked.

Maura glanced at Jane, whose arms were folded and whose expression betrayed nothing. "Yes," she finally said. "Frost could have bled out."

"What happened?"

"He was—he got shot at," Maura had to answer. "By the type of man our fathers hated." When Garrett narrowed his eyes in confusion, Maura explained, "The only reason he took a shot was because of Frost's skin color. The injury was so bad he has to stay overnight in Green Forge."

"And I'll be going back to see him," Jane said. "So you don't have to worry, Fairfield. Goodnight, Maura. Korsak? Can I have a word?"

She figured Maura would be able to handle herself from here on out, and beckoned for Korsak to follow her back to the coach. Once they were out of earshot of the boarding house, Korsak whispered, "What the hell happened, Jane? Where's Frost? Why was Maura with you?"

He looked baffled as Jane shook her head and smiled wearily. "Korsak," she said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "We got him."

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><p><strong>AN**: Thank you again for the encouragement, guys. This chapter was a bit all over the place, and I hope it came off all right. I'm excited to move forward.  
>Also I was just introduced to <em>Tangled<em>, and Flynn's line "you were my new dream" is one of the most cheesily, adorably romantic things I think I've ever heard in a Disney movie, to the point that it's probably going to end up in this story. Heads-up.


	39. A Night at the Opera

**A/N**: Hope everyone's had a great memorial day weekend (those of you in the States, anyway). I had half this chapter done, then my LLBFF came to visit and well, I've been getting less sleep than usual... she leaves tomorrow, so I'm posting this now! Also posting a link on my tumblr to the opera that comes into play. Check it out if you feel so inclined- it's really beautiful.

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><p>Nobody got much sleep that night. Korsak had driven back to Green Forge with Jane, where she checked in on Frost and he went to have a talk with the Sheriff regarding Hoyt. Maura and Garrett had managed to end things on a decent note, because while he was still a bit upset that she had been gone so long, he had to acknowledge that healing Frost was a good reason to have been kept. Still, he had trouble sleeping because he couldn't get over the shock of how Jane had come back with her, and had played the role of the protector when he got (justifiably, in his opinion) upset. When and how did she and Maura become such good friends?<p>

Maura, meanwhile, got no more than an hour or two of sleep. Too many ideas, too many memories, too many emotions were washing over her from head to toe. She still couldn't believe the boldness of what she had done, posing as a showgirl and allowing the men in that tavern to see her after all their careful planning _not _to let that happen. She couldn't believe how audaciously Jane had touched her—as she lay in bed, her eyes closed not with sleep but in gratification as she palmed her own breast, remembering how overwhelmingly good it had felt to have Jane's hand there. But if she focused on that for too long, she felt guilt, because this night had been about so much more.

Hoyt had come out of nowhere and made a disgustingly crass comment, Frost had told him off, and Hoyt had retaliated by taking a shot at him. Then Jane had appeared and tackled him. In all honesty, Maura had thought Jane would kill him, but she had been satisfied to let him get carted off to jail. Maybe that was because she had no longer been in character as Jake. Whatever the case, it had been frightening enough for Maura that she couldn't imagine everything Jane must be feeling right now.

Jane and Frost were sitting outside the Sheriff's office at Green Forge. Korsak was inside, watching Hoyt's cell with a deputy, occupying the chairs Jane and Frost had just vacated. She had needed a break from looking at his face. Fortunately Hoyt's bullet hadn't penetrated Frost's arm too deeply, so while he wore it in a sling, it wasn't as painful as it might have been. It was about 3:00 in the morning, and so dark that they could hardly see each other's faces. Both of them were looking out, looking up, exchanging no words for several minutes.

Frost was the one to break the silence, tears evident in his voice: "That's really him in there, isn't it?"

"Yup," Jane said slowly. "That's him, all right." She did not turn to look at her partner. That way, she could pretend not to notice the dim outline of him brushing away some tears. Leave his pride at least somewhat in tact.

"Why do I—why don't I feel…"

"Better?" Jane offered. "Safer, done?"

"Yeah. It felt too easy."

"Frost, you got wounded."

He snorted and shifted his arm. "You and I've both been through worse than this."

She had to agree with that one. "Yeah. I guess I know what you mean. This don't seem real, Frost." For the first time, she looked over at him to see that he was already gazing back at her. She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the Sheriff's office. "We been chasin' him for over ten years, and he's right there. We got him in Green Forge. He's right in there. The man who killed our parents and God knows how many other people."

There was a pause before Frost ventured to ask, "Were you gonna kill him? When I grabbed your arm and the Sheriff showed up, were you gonna kill him?"

Jane's eyes still hadn't fully adjusted to the dark, and she couldn't make out Frost's expression. She returned her sights to the few stars that were bleakly shining. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I was gonna kill him. Why'd you stop me?"

"Because it's like he said," Frost muttered. "Sheriff wouldn't have given a rat's ass about Hoyt shooting at me. He'd have cared a lot more if he saw you killing Hoyt. Jake Wyatt maybe could've gotten away 'cause of his reputation, but not you." He shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't want you to get into trouble." After a longer, more painful pause, Frost asked, "Are you sorry?"

It was a while before Jane could decide how to answer. "I dunno. Putting him in jail doesn't feel like enough, even if he _will _get a trial and _will _get hung."

Jane had initially been right to worry that they wouldn't have enough to hold Hoyt in prison for long, but that was where Korsak came in. Going mostly on Jane's testimony, he had explained to Green Forge's Sheriff that Hoyt was a killer he had been trying to find for fifteen years. The eyes also tipped him off—his was a stare that frequently haunted Korsak in his nightmares. Considering Korsak's respected and reputable standing in the county, the Sheriff of Green Forge all but kowtowed to his will, agreeing to put Hoyt on trial. Korsak didn't want the man in his own town, and as he had been caught elsewhere, keeping him in jail there seemed legitimate. In a week and a half, he would be put on trial for his life.

"I'd probably feel better about it if he acted a little more worried," Frost said. "But he has that look in his face like he's still in control, still on top of it all."

"I know," Jane said gruffly. "But we gotta just… trust that it'll work out okay, Frost. I mean, who'd have thought we'd actually do it?" She laughed weakly and looked over at him again. "We did it."

"Still can't believe it," Frost said. "I really can't."

"It'll take some getting used to, yeah," Jane agreed. "Uh… Frost? I think I need to apologize."

"For what? Not killing him when you had the chance?"

She frowned. "Did you want me to?"

"I dunno," he mumbled with a shrug. "I guess I just kinda thought…after looking for him so long, when we found him, we'd make sure he'd never hurt anyone else again."

"He won't," Jane said, sounding much more sure than she actually felt. "They'll take care of him. And we can get on with our real lives. Anyway, that ain't what I wanted to apologize for." In a gesture she had never before employed with her partner of ten years, Jane held out her hand, and didn't continue speaking until he took it. "I'm sorry for blowin' my top at ya. Y'know, about that note, the one I'm guessing Hoyt sent up. I shouldn't have lost my temper. Sorry I shoved ya, called ya that name."

"What, 'boy'?" Frost snorted. "I been called much worse."

"Not by me, not ever by me. I know it ain't an excuse, Frost, but I was real upset."

"I know," he said quickly. "It's all right."

"No it ain't. I was just real worried about Maura, you know." She let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, not letting go of Frost's hand. "I ain't ever been so scared," she admitted quietly. "Other than the night he—Hoyt—got me and my dad. But when those girls came out and one was missing and Maura wasn't with us, I—I panicked. My mind went crazy comin' up with all the ways she could be gettin' in trouble or gettin' hurt."

"She's all right, Jane," Frost said gently. "She made it home."

Jane nodded, then laughed feebly again. "Listen to me—tryin' to apologize, and you're the one comforting me. I'm still sorry, Frost."

"I know. Consider yourself the first person who's ever apologized for calling me something a little less than equal."

He gave Jane's hand a small squeeze, which she returned before allowing herself to change the subject. "So, Frost. What d'you reckon you're gonna do now?"

"Gosh, I dunno. I ain't lived for anything else in so long."

"I know the feeling. You gonna stick around these parts?"

"Reckon I should. I know I'll get a fair shake here—in the Creek, anyway."

"What about…I mean… wouldn't you like to go someplace where there's more, uh… people that look like you?"

"I've thought about it," he said. "But I dunno. You're the only family I've got, Jane. It'd feel mighty strange not being near you. Uh…if you're stayin' around, that is."

Being called Frost's only family had rendered Jane temporarily speechless. She was touched beyond words by this sentiment, but didn't know how to express it. Holding his hand was already way outside the usual limits of their comfort zone, so she didn't push it any further and trusted he knew how much the words meant to her. "Yeah," she finally said. "I think I'll stay around, at least for a while… maybe until Maura gets married. She needs a friend out here while she's still livin' alone."

"Excuse me for saying this," Frost said, "but I… I don't think I much care for Mr. Fairfield."

"Oh, you're excused," Jane chuckled. "I didn't think he was such a bad fella, but lately he's been rubbin' me the wrong way. Gosh, you shoulda seen him when Maura and I got back to the Creek."

"Was he mad?"

"Hopping. I thought his head would blow right off. He was mean to her."

"He was just upset."

"I know… I'm sure they've made up." Frost couldn't help noticing that Jane didn't sound too happy about this prospect. "Anyhow, Maura loves him, and that's all that's important." She suddenly wished she had a beer, something to occupy her time during the silences that kept punctuating their conversation. "How about you, Frost, you ever been in love?" As soon as she asked it, Jane couldn't help thinking what a stupid question it was. They'd rarely stayed in one place long enough to fall in love.

So it was a bit to her surprise when he said, "I think so, yeah. Remember Anna?"

Oh boy, did she. When Jane had first met Frost, he'd been living with the Ferrell family. They had been good friends of his parents, and with a daughter around his age, had been only too anxious to take him in when he was orphaned. Everybody assumed that when he and Anna were old enough, they would get married because they were such close friends. Nobody had foreseen a white woman coming in and luring him away for a life on the road, but the temptation to find his parents' killer was too much. For a while he and Anna exchanged letters, but ultimately they stopped off. Frost hadn't talked about her much after that, and to be honest, Jane had sort of forgotten about her.

"Frost," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking you away from her. I didn't know."

"Hell, Jane, I was fifteen," he muttered. "And don't talk like I was your slave and you _made_ me come along. I wanted to go. I wanted to find him with you. It was _my_ choice, something _I _wanted to do because I had the freedom to get up and go. My parents hardly did—and once they had it, they didn't hardly get to enjoy it 'cause of Hoyt. When I found out there was someone else who wanted him dead as much as I did, there was nothing I wanted more than to be with that person, no matter the cost. And we had some good times, didn't we Jane?"

"Sure. We had some good times, Frost."

"Still…maybe now it's all over, I'll go look up Anna. See if she'd maybe like to come out here. Boy, I still miss her letters. It was nice having someone who cared, y'know? And having someone tell me about her life, normal and all that."

"You carried a torch for her all this time?"

"I thought about her all this time, yeah. Not as much as I should have, though. But…" He sighed deeply and leaned back a little in his chair. "Now that we caught Hoyt, maybe it was all worth it."

"How's it feel, Frost? How's it feel to be in love?"

He laughed, and for the first time all night it sounded like a truly happy sound. "Gosh, Jane, I don't know. I was just a kid, like I said. If I'd really loved her ...when we stopped writing, I'd have gone back to her. I wouldn't have kept going. But still I've thought about her; I've felt guilty about not finding her, so… in a way I guess I do love her, really. I just didn't do right by her. Love should mean putting someone ahead of everything, right? Loving them and caring about them more than yourself. I loved her 'cause we were friends, and she was smart and could make me laugh. I remember thinkin' if anything ever happened to her family, I'd want to be the one in charge of taking care of her. Real stand-up job I did, huh?"

"She knows why you left, Frost," Jane said, giving his one more quick grasp before gently pulling her own away. "When you're ready, you oughtta try and find her."

He shrugged again. "Maybe. It could be better to just try and start all over, you know?" When Jane didn't respond to this, he said, "Why d'you ask, Jane? Think you're in love?"

This was easily the most intimate conversation the two of them had ever shared, but Jane didn't feel like she could be entirely honest with Frost on this front yet—especially as she still couldn't be honest with herself. It was still partly true when she said, "I'm not sure, Frost. Guess I just wanted an opinion so I might have an idea how it's s'posed to feel when I do."

* * *

><p>Jane spent every day of the next week in Green Forge either inside or just outside of the Sheriff's office. Korsak and eventually Frost had gone back to the Creek, but neither of them could convince her to come home. With Hoyt captured and still alive, it didn't feel right to just walk away and leave, even if it was only to go to the next town. If he escaped, it wouldn't be on her watch—and she was determined that he would not escape. She hadn't thrown away fifteen years of her life to finally catch him and then let someone else accidentally let him slip through their fingers. She hardly slept and barely ate, mostly sitting in a chair directly outside his cell, engaging in silent showdowns with him. More than once she considered just shooting him, thinking how satisfying it would be, and it was beyond tempting. If she'd just leave and come back at night dressed as Jake, he'd know who she was but nobody else would.<p>

_It'd be so easy. I should do it_.

The thing that convinced her it would be a good idea was when Hoyt finally said something to her after seven days of silence. She was sitting outside his cell and the Sheriff and his deputy were far away by the door, out of earshot if Hoyt whispered.

He leaned forward and said in a quite but nonetheless threatening voice, "You should've killed me when you had the chance, Janie." Enjoying the sensation of watching her try to mask her fear, Hoyt leisurely leaned back as if he were on a picnic, not in prison. There was no trepidation in his tone, only calm assurance of the certainty of his words: "You'll be sorry you didn't."

She did not indulge him in asking why. Jane merely got up, told the deputy in no uncertain terms that she wanted round-the-clock strict observance on Hoyt, then left. Frost had brought a horse for her to use in case she ever wanted to get out of town, and she jumped on it and headed for home. If she was going to do this, she needed to be disguised as Jake, and all her needed accessories were in a crate in Korsak's corral. She would grab what she required, wait in the barn until nightfall, then return to Green Forge as Jake to kill Hoyt. It was a flawless plan so long as she didn't run into any—

_Damn it, Maura, why do you always have to show up?_

It was hard for anyone, especially Jane, to remain angry when Maura Isles was rushing towards you with that big of a smile on her face.

"You remembered!" she cried, throwing her arms around Jane's neck. "Oh, darling, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't, what with everything that's been going on—you must feel as though you've been sleepwalking, and I trust you won't feel quite at ease until that man is gone—but oh, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you remembered my birthday!"

Jane tensed with the sudden onset of guilt. Truth be told, she had completely forgotten it was Maura's birthday. But in her defense, as Maura had pointed out, other things had been on her mind. _Well, at least I already got her a gift!_

"Of course I remembered!" Jane said before pulling back slightly. Her hands moved of their own accord to frame Maura's face, caressing it and consequently widening the smaller woman's smile before Jane remembered herself and dropped her hands. "How could I forget such a special day in the life of someone who means so much to me?"

"Do I really mean so much to you, Jane?" Maura asked, looking and sounding for all the world as if an affirmative answer would be the greatest present she could ever possibly receive.

"You know you do, Maura."

"Can I ask you a favor, then?"

"Anything."

"Well…you know the opera tonight? The one who got tickets for me and Garrett to go to? It turns out he can't come with me, and I was wondering if you'd take me, instead."

"What? Why ain't he goin'?"

Maura impatiently waved her hand, like she could care less about the reasons. "Oh, something came up with work. One of his father's businessman friends just moved to Flagstaff, and Garrett's father promised this man that he'd send Garrett down to help him settle in, and to check out the insurance man down there. If the situation doesn't seem promising, this man may wind up working with Garrett. It would be silly to pass up on the opportunity for a new client."

Now it was Jane's turn to hold up her hand. "Wait, wait. Mr. Fairfield would rather do business than be with you on your birthday?"

"Well it's not _quite _like that," Maura said. "It's a familial obligation as well as business. He couldn't help the date. Actually he left yesterday, and he gave me quite an extravagant gift."

"What'd he get you?"

Rather than try and explain it, Maura took Jane by the hand and led her back to the boarding house. They had crossed each other by Korsak's office, so it wasn't a very long walk. When they reached Maura's room, they were greeted by an enormous instrument that Jane had never seen anything similar to in her life. It stood on a small table she had never noticed before (possibly because it was new) by Bass' crate. A sizeable box-like shape was at the bottom, underneath a needle that would have been big enough to treat a horse, and above _that _was a strange-looking curled horn.

"What…what is it?" Jane asked, admitting defeat and taking a step back.

"It's called a phonograph," Maura answered, picking up a large envelope that she'd laid on the bed. "Garrett assures me they're quite new, and I'm sure quite expensive."

Given the sigh at the end of her sentence, Jane couldn't help thinking Maura wasn't thrilled about the price, and she thought she could venture a guess as to why. "So he's tryin' to save money, but then spends God knows how much on _this _thing?"

"I don't think even God knows," Maura flatly replied.

Jane snorted a laugh at the joke. "What's it do, anyway?"

"It plays music."

Jane raised her eyebrows in disbelief and tried to look into the horn of the thing. "How on earth's it do _that?_"

"Unfortunately, my education never quite covered the unfathomable realms of such machinery," Maura answered, slipping a record out of the envelope she was holding. "Garrett showed me how to use it, though. You put this disc here on top of the box… and then bring down the needle, and it plays." She put the record down, but didn't lower the needle. "I'd play it for you now, but Bass is awake and he didn't like it."

"He didn't like it? How could you tell?"

"It's just this look he got on his face that he gets sometimes when he's upset—like right now, because he thinks I'm about to turn it on."

They both looked down at the tortoise, who appeared to Jane like he did every single other time she had ever seen him. "Oh, yeah," she deadpanned. "He definitely looks upset."

"So anyway, will you take me?" Maura asked, clasping her hands together and grinning hopefully. "To the opera? I know it's dreadfully last-minute, but if we left in two hours we could still make it in plenty of time, and Jane, it would mean so much to me. There's nobody I'd rather go with."

Maura's gleeful sincerity and earnestness to be with her erased all memory of Hoyt from Jane's mind. "If I say no, who would take you?"

"Well…Garrett asked Dr. Byron if he would," Maura replied, her smile faltering at Jane's voiced reluctance. "Because he's a widower and Garrett trusts him. But Byron didn't seem too enthusiastic about the prospect of going; I don't think he cares for opera. So really you'd be doing both of us a favor. Well, you'd be doing _Byron_ a favor, and bestowing a great kindness upon me."

Jane bit her cheek and hooked her thumbs through her belt loops, walking closer to Bass' crate and pretending to consider Maura's offer. Naturally the moment Maura had brought it up, Jane knew she would go: it was not within her power to turn down anything Maura ever asked of her, and besides, she'd be lying if she said it hadn't eaten her up inside to have to provide an extra ticket for Garrett. This was what she had wanted, to take Maura to the opera herself.

"What d'you think, Bass?" she asked. "Should I go?" She stared at him before looking over at Maura, shaking her head. "I dunno. He says I'd probably be really bored."

Maura frowned at her pet. "What? No he didn't!"

"Yeah, yeah, and he—what's that, Bass?"

"He said he was joking and that if you don't come with me, he will worry for my happiness. On my _birthday_."

"Aw shucks, I guess I'd better go then," Jane said, her smile widening to let Maura know she'd been joking a moment ago. With a sigh, she looked down at her dirty, torn clothes. "I should probably change into something a little more decent, shouldn't I?"

"It doesn't have to be a dress," Maura said quickly. "But… yes, something clean would probably be best."

"Your wish is my command," Jane said, sinking into an extravagant bow. "I'll see if I can't borrow a carriage, and I'll be back to pick you up in two hours. All right?"

Maura was beaming. "More than all right," she gushed. "Perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect lady," Jane returned.

"I'm hardly perfect, Jane," Maura scoffed as the woman passed her to leave, both of them blushing.

Jane turned back to say, "Until I see evidence to the contrary, Dr. Isles, that's the opinion I'm gonna keep. See ya soon."

After she left, Maura went to Dr. Byron to let him know he'd been released from opera duty. He tried (and failed) to hide his relief, wishing Maura a happy birthday all the same. Everyone had been exceptionally kind to her today, making this easily the best birthday she had ever had. The women from Garrett's street had converged upon her in the morning, bringing various baked goods and other homemade gifts with one card they had all signed. Frost had repaired her favorite boots, Frankie had arranged a short piano composition for her (Tommy's contribution being that he wasn't there to mangle it with his singing voice), and even Korsak had chipped in with Dr. Byron to get Maura a new pocket watch. An extravagant cake from Angela was sure to feed her for several days, and Maura couldn't wait to wear the evening gown Adelaide had given her.

She was beyond overcome with emotion at the kindnesses and thoughtfulness that had been shown to her already today, but during her rare moments alone, she could not fight an underlying feeling of glumness. Initially she had believed it was because she was sad that Garrett wasn't there, and admittedly a tad depressed that he had gone away on business instead of being with her for her birthday. But the moment she'd seen Jane trying to sneak past Korsak's office, Maura's melancholy had left her faster than an express train. It dawned on her that she had been so sad because she hadn't seen Jane in a week and had believed she wouldn't be in town for her birthday. Considering what Jane had been going through recently, Maura did not resent her absence in any way—she just sorely missed her.

In going back to her house, Jane had run into Frost and asked if he'd mind going back to the jail at Green Forge. As she prepared extensively for her night out with Maura, Jane was disturbed to recognize that even after he'd been caught, Hoyt had still been controlling her life. _I did my job, I got him behind bars. I shouldn't have wasted all this last week staring at his face. I should've been here. I should've been with Maura. _Jane was only grateful that she had made it back in time for her friend's birthday. She was determined not to let Hoyt ruin this day for her.

It was a struggle to clean herself very thoroughly without a bathtub, but Jane did her best to remove every particle of dirt from her body, her hair, and under her fingernails. She selected her nicest pair of trousers (black pinstripes) and for a little color, threw on a sky-blue shirt beneath the matching black blazer. Dress boots were pulled over the socks Maura had knitted for her, and Jane figured this was as good as she was going to get before she passed Tommy's room. Being in jail, he wouldn't notice if his new pair of cufflinks were used for the night—and what he wouldn't know wouldn't hurt him. So she shamelessly put them on before also borrowing one of Frankie's cross-ties and heading out the door.

Korsak had been glad to lend Jane one of his carriages, especially when she explained what she wanted it for. Considering Maura had come back with Jane the night Hoyt had been captured, Korsak couldn't help believing the doctor had been involved in some way. As she seemed unharmed, Korsak hadn't pressed Jane for details, and she certainly hadn't offered any. Either way, he thought going to an opera for Maura's birthday would be a great way to take both Jane and Maura's minds off of Hoyt.

When Jane drove up to the boarding house, Maura was already waiting on the porch, and Jane moaned internally at the sight of her. She was wearing the dress Adelaide had given her, which turned out to be a shade of blue that very nearly matched Jane's shirt. It was slim and fitted perfectly to her form, yet there was a softness to it as well, perhaps because Maura was not wearing her usual number of layers beneath it. To keep her warm, she had on a pair of black evening gloves and Adelaide's black capelet, an ensemble that—like basically anything else she wore—had an overall breathtaking effect.

"Maura, you…look…incredible," Jane said, stepping down from the carriage to meet her at the porch.

Maura laughed and did a short twirl before walking down the steps. "Thank you! The dress was a gift from Adelaide."

"She's got a real eye," Jane noted.

"You don't look so terrible yourself," Maura said, lightly tapping Jane's shoulder with her black lace fan. "You clean up very nicely, Calamity Jane."

"Only for holidays," Jane chuckled, assisting Maura up into the carriage.

"Oh, does my birthday count as a holiday?" Maura asked as Jane jumped up next to her.

"Of course—it's the most important one of all. If it weren't for your birthday, I wouldn't have you in my life. Y'know, Maura, I think you may just about be the most important thing that's ever happened to me. Not just 'cause you helped us catch Hoyt. But… oh, I guess we should get goin', huh? Here." She pulled a blanket out of the back and handed it to Maura. "You'll want to cover yourself with this. You oughtta know by now that ridin' up front means dirt is liable to fly up and onto your clothes, which'd be a real shame in this case."

"Is it big enough for both of us?" Maura asked, unfolding the blanket. "I mean, what about _your _clothes?"

"I guess it's big enough to go over my trousers," Jane conceded, allowing Maura to lay part of the blanket over her legs. She glanced over to see that Maura had pulled it up to her shoulders, effectively covering up her clothes. "Anyhow, like I was sayin', Maura. You've changed me a lot for the better. Not just 'cause you taught me how read and write better, but 'cause you're just such a good person. You're kind and you believe in me, and you didn't turn away when things got scary."

"They _did _get scary, didn't they?" Maura said softly, and Jane nodded. "Jane… what happens now?"

Though a very vague question, Jane understood exactly what Maura was asking about. "I've been thinkin' about that," she said. "And I ain't really sure yet. Frost and I were talkin' about it. We both been dreamin' of catching Hoyt for so long that it's hard to think of anything else we might wanna do. It's kinda scary, Maura. For fifteen years I lived, breathed, and dreamt of this man. And now we got him."

A long silence passed before Maura nervously said, "I know you've traveled a lot in your life, Jane, and enjoyed the freedoms that came with it. Are you …I mean do you think you'll be doing that again?"

Jane sighed deeply, contemplatively. If she had been asked this question even five hours ago, a response might have been difficult to produce. But right here, right now, the answer hit her over the head with all the subtlety of a crowbar.

"Maura, I spent years chasin' a dream. I think it'd be nice to settle down for a while, find a dream closer to home." She smiled over at Maura, who felt her heart soar at Jane's words even as Jane continued. "I guess 'dream' may be a funny way of puttin' it. Finding Hoyt weren't so easy like a dream, or pleasant like a dream. But it was my goal and it seemed impossible, and I guess that's how it was like a dream. I believed that if I ever achieved it, I'd be happy."

"And are you?" Maura asked. Jane only shrugged. "What makes you happy, Jane?"

"Makin' _you_ happy, Maura." Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Maura was looking at her, and Jane tore her eyes away from the road for as long as she dared so she could return it. "That's my new dream." _You_.

When Jane reluctantly turned her gaze forward again, Maura leaned over and left a very long kiss on her cheek. Jane inhaled sharply at the unexpected contact and did not breathe out again until Maura's lips left her face. Once Maura broke it off, she did not quite pull away; she rested her head on Jane's shoulder, and reached one arm out from under the blanket to weave it through Jane's. This was a feeling she had never really encountered before, except when she was with Jane.

As often was the case, Maura found herself involuntarily comparing Garrett to Jane. He was typically the one to initiate physical contact, and while Maura was usually happy to return it, there was always the sense that she was only doing it because it was expected of her. She liked Garrett, really she did; he had always been a good friend. He'd just been getting a little possessive lately, as if he were afraid of losing her. This was a ridiculous notion, or so Maura thought. There were no men she spent that much time with in the Creek besides Dr. Byron, and maybe Tommy while Jane was away …but Jane was a different story. Maura found it difficult to keep her hands off her. She yearned to be close to her, physically and emotionally. Now that it was Jane and not Byron who was taking her to the opera, she found herself not quite as sad that Garrett was out of town.

"Jane, I think you're wonderful," she whispered. "And if making me happy is your new dream, considering your tremendous success in that area in the past, it's going to be substantially easier than your last one."

Most of the rest of their journey was completed in comfortable silence, with Maura still leaning on Jane. She reflected that moments with Garrett were rarely ever quiet. As a boy he'd always been loud and energetic, which she had found incredibly exciting. These days, it felt as though silence made him nervous, like any quiet moments were wasted ones, boring ones, awkward ones. If there was a lull in the conversation, he'd find a way to end it. He could never appreciate the closeness required to enjoy silence with somebody like this…

When they reached the theater in Mesa, Jane's attire raised a few eyebrows, but she didn't even notice. All that mattered was the way Maura was looking at her, which was like there was nothing that could be improved about her being. Upon receiving a program, Maura squealed in delight: the opera was one of her favorites, Friedrich von Flotow's "Martha," which she had seen performed in Europe (in German, while tonight's rendition would be Italian). It was in fact much of the same music that was on the record Garrett had given her. They took their seats, which weren't quite the best in the house but Maura assured Jane that being far from the stage in an opera wasn't such a bad thing. She invited Jane to look through the small binoculars she had brought, which gave Jane a real kick.

The show began, and Maura was in heaven, pure heaven. It was still nothing short of a miracle to her that she could experience this wonderfully European art in her own United States. If you tried to listen for it, you could hear crickets chirping between numbers. People murmured to each other in various accents of English, delighted by what they were seeing. Maura's lips were pulled into a wide grin, her eyes shining orbs of pure joy.

Every so often she would lean towards Jane to explain what was happening in the story or was being sung, not realizing that it was pointless for two reasons. First of all, unbeknownst to Maura, Jane could do more than scrape by in Italian. She was nearly fluent in it, so she could follow the story fairly well. More so than that, though, Jane wasn't really watching the opera.

She was watching Maura.

To be precise, she was watching Maura watch the opera. This was all Jane had been able to think about when she made the decision to accompany Maura here. She had wanted to see her grin open-mouthed like this, sitting on the edge of her seat in utter enjoyment, hands clasped together. Jane's heart swelled to know it was because of her that Maura was so happy, that she looked so lovely. Watching her was beautiful, and Jane couldn't believe that Garrett Fairfield would ever give up the opportunity to thrill Maura like this. _His loss_.

At some point during the opera, one of them must have reached for the other's hand, but neither was sure who had initiated it. All they knew was that when it was over, they had to pull apart to applaud.

"Oh, Jane, wasn't it exquisite?" Maura gushed as they returned to their carriage. "To have talent like that—how wonderful."

"Yes, it was… lovely," Jane said, helping Maura up. "No really, I mean it. I'm glad Mr. Fairfield couldn't come, so I could take ya."

Once she had climbed up, Maura linked her arm through Jane's again and said, "Me too."

They spent most of the ride home discussing details of the opera, many of which Jane had of course missed. The excitement of it all had gotten Maura very chatty, and she was eagerly explaining all the different types of opera that existed, which ones she had seen, and what her parents thought of each kind. Rather than be bored to tears, Jane found herself quite entertained. When Maura got into storytelling mode, she was really quite fun to listen to, and she had a way of sounding enlightening, not condescending. It was all too soon when she realized they had arrived back at Melody's boarding house, the evening having come to a close.

After Jane had helped her down, Maura said, "Jane, I really can't thank you enough for a beautiful evening. I was enjoying my birthday, but when you came, you made it perfect. I can't imagine how it might have been better."

"It was my pleasure, Maura," Jane said back sincerely. "Happy birthday."

The response was a whisper. "Thank you."

For a few more moments, they gazed at each other in silence, neither wanting to be the first to leave. But Jane figured she ought to be getting Korsak's carriage back to him, and reclaim her horse. So she asked, "Let's say I'm Mr. Fairfield. How would I say goodnight to you?"

Smiling at the jocular tone of Jane's voice, Maura regally extended her arm, palm-down, and said in an imperial tone, "You may kiss my hand."

Jane chuckled and quickly obeyed before walking back to the carriage. Maura watched her drive off until the road got too dark for her to see, and she turned to go into the boarding house.

It seemed most everyone still had their lights on, so Maura thought nobody would mind if she tried using the phonograph. They had all been fairly excited when it arrived and had been eager to listen to it anyway, so why not? Maura still felt a bit awkward owning the thing, though; she knew the gift must have been wildly expensive, and she couldn't help thinking the money might have been better spent going towards the house or their savings. Such an extravagant present felt almost as if the gesture was more for Garrett's benefit than hers.

_I shouldn't think such things_, Maura scolded herself, carefully setting the record down. _He just wanted to make it up to me for missing my birthday, I'm sure. It was sweet of him_.

She gingerly lowered the needle, then went to her dresser to start brushing out her hair. The scratchy first tone lasted a few seconds, then the orchestra came warbling out of the bell, eventually followed by the tenor's voice. Not terrible. Certainly not as gorgeous as hearing it live, but the equipment really was impressive. Maura was glad she already knew the story of the opera, because the quality of the record made it a bit difficult to fully understand the lyrics. But that didn't matter, she told herself—it was the thought that counted, and now, thanks to Garrett, she could listen to her favorite opera whenever she wished… and now came her favorite movement: _M'appari tutt'amor_.

Maura closed her eyes as the beautiful music swept over her, and she wished she had artistic talent comparable to this singer's, for while his words may not have been perfectly clear, his talent certainly was. There was very minimal musical accompaniment, just a few strings and… was that a harmonica? Maura's brush stilled as the song went on—the harmonica was not playing as an underscore; it was doing the melody right alongside the singer…

That's when Maura suspected this wasn't just a charmingly Western variation of the opera.

She stood up and walked back to the phonograph, putting her ear close to the bell. It definitely sounded as though the harmonica was unrecorded, and besides, it was a beat off. Maura quickly pulled the needle up off the record, and indeed, the harmonica persisted when the rest of the music cut immediately. So then where…?

After a moment's hesitation, Maura walked over to her window and pulled back the curtain. The music was coming from outside, close by—she could hear the strain of the mouth organ, just below her. There was a lone figure down there, leaning over the saddle of a horse. The music stopped, and Maura realized she had been holding her breath. As she let it out, the figure straightened up, taking off her hat and looking directly at Maura's window. As Maura had dared guess, it was Jane. _Oh please, don't stop!_

Other women were peering out of their windows, but Jane paid them no mind. She had eyes only for Maura as she brought the instrument back to her lips and finished out the song. Maura leaned her elbow on the sill, resting her chin in her hand as she listened. This was leagues ahead of a machine's recording, and in some ways, was even superior to the professional performance: this song was meant just for her. Jane held the last note as long as she could, not wanting this moment to end.

But the number was over. By the time it finished, even more women had leaned out their windows, but nobody initiated applause. For a few moments after the song had ended, Jane continued to look upwards, and Maura stared down, at an utter loss for words.

"Jane," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear it herself. She was grinning like a fool, shaking her head in disbelief. She raised her hand to wave, but it remained mostly stationary, a quiet, appreciative acknowledgement of the gift.

Smiling widely back, Jane waved, her heart swelling again. The words weren't even conscious; they just came to her, slipped into her thoughts: _I love you, Maura Isles. I love you_. As she rode away, she was too thrilled by the buoyancy of her spirits to worry about or be scared by the implications of those feelings.

And was totally unaware of the fact that they were returned in equal if not greater measure.


	40. Everything You Need

**A/N**: Oh, you guys. I'm getting far too addicted to writing. Thanks to **Dr. Franklinstein **for a Wind Whistler suggestion here, and also keep an eye out for a moment from _It's a Wonderful Life _(referencing what I think is one of cinema's most adorably romantic scenes.) Sit down and buckle up, people. Rizzles is coming upon us.

* * *

><p>The next day, Maura asked for another lesson in the saddle, and Jane was only too happy to indulge her in this request. Frost had come back to get some supplies from the corral and said he would meet them there. Part of Maura wanted to take advantage of Garrett's absence; he was set to return that evening, so as long as she and Jane had parted ways by then, there was no need for him to know they had spent the day together. They walked down to the corral together, giving Maura the opportunity to readjust to the sensation of wearing pants. When they reached the corral, Wind Whistler trotted over to meet them, and Maura obligingly picked up a brush and went to work.<p>

"Yeah, your horse is real filthy, Maura," Jane teased her, going to stand by the tail end of the mare. Wind Whistler always looked pristine.

"Oh, hush," Maura laughed. "Don't think I didn't notice what a dirty steed took us to Mesa last night!"

"Hey, don't you go insultin' my horse!" Jane shot back. "Maybe he just didn't think an opera was worth gettin' all gussied up for."

"Don't talk like that," Maura said with a frown. "I thought you enjoyed it."

Jane gave her a teasing grin. "What, the opera? Nah. Too stuffy for my taste."

Instead of a comeback from Maura, what Jane got was a face-full of horse tail courtesy of a vaguely annoyed Wind Whistler. Maura burst out laughing as Jane spat histrionically and wiped her face. Pretending to be upset, Jane pulled out her revolver and aimed it at Wind Whistler's belly. "How dare you slap me with your tail, ya dumb animal!"

Wind Whistler just snorted. Maura, though, yanked the revolver out of Jane's hand. "Don't threaten my horse!" she gasped, though she was also laughing. "C'mon, girl, we'll saddle you up. No, no," she said in a lofty voice when Jane made to follow her. "Frost is in the barn; he'll help me. _You _need to work on your violent temper."

"Aw, you're no fun," Jane said with a fake scowl. She kicked at the dirt a bit, then saw Frankie ride up with a young woman who looked far too pretty for him. "Hey, little brother! How goes it this fine morning?"

"Not so bad, Jane!" he said, hopping down from his horse and then helping his new friend down from hers. "This here young lady's just moved into Melody's boarding house."

"Showin' her the sights, huh?" Jane asked, shaking the girl's hand. The woman looked familiar, but Jane wasn't sure why or where she'd have seen her. Frankie went back to the barn to find some oats for his horse, and Jane was about to ask this girl where she moved in from when she spoke up herself.

"Jane…was that you playing the harmonica outside the boarding house last night?"

Jane chuckled and said, "Oh gosh, sorry if that woke ya up or somethin'."

"Oh no, I thought it was lovely. My roommate said the music-player belongs to a Miss Maura Isles? Is that who you were playing for?"

The woman was still smiling, still making an effort to sound friendly, but something about her made Jane hesitate. "What'd you say your name was?" she asked.

Laughing softly, the woman lifted up a pistol Jane had only just noticed she was holding. "I didn't, but if you're still curious, you can call me Lola." She smirked as she saw recognition dawn on Jane's face—_that's the name of the girl Maura said was Hoyt's apprentice_. "Frankie and I came across a rattler on our way over. He killed it for me, then gave me his pistol to hold onto just so's I could feel safe." Her smirk deepened. "He don't know just how good I am with a gun."

Jane reached for her holster before remembering it was empty, and her heart sank. "Lola, please," she whispered, her throat dry. "Put that gun down. You don't wanna do this."

"Oh, but I do," Lola assured her calmly. "Now don't you call for help or try to run away, or I swear to God I'll use your brother's gun to shoot you and anyone else who tries to stop me. Charles wants you out of the way, and once you're out of the way, we'll be happy."

"Is that what you think? Lola, listen to me. Hoyt's not in love with ya, he's usin' ya to get to me. He wants _me_, you understand?"

She shook her head and used her other hand to shield the gun from view—out of the corner of her eye she had seen Maura walking back. "Don't make a scene, Jane. Come quietly with me and nobody gets hurt. Tell your friend we're going for a ride."

But Maura had already seen the pistol and also, with the feeling that her stomach had just dropped, recognized Lola. She had left Jane's revolver in the barn with Frankie and Frost, both of whom were too far away to do anything—_think, Maura_. Lola's back was turned, she was slowly guiding Jane away and Maura noticed a rifle leaning against the fence of the corral. _Do something. _

"Lola!"

Jane and Lola both turned and neither could have been more surprised to see Maura holding a rifle with perfect form, directing it at Lola.

"Honey, put that thing down before you hurt yourself," Lola said with a sneer.

"Not until you leave," Maura said, sounding much more confident than she actually felt. "Alone. Put down that gun and walk out of here."

With a short laugh, Lola said, "Oh, yeah? You gonna stop me?"

"I can shoot straight if I don't have to shoot too far," Maura responded, trying and failing to keep her voice from shaking. "And if you hurt a hair on Jane's head, I cannot be held responsible for what happens to you,"

Lola looked over at Jane, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate joke, but Jane looked equally dumbfounded. Before Lola could come up with something condescending to say, Jane quietly begged, "Maura, please. Don't get caught up in this."

"Oh, so _you're_ Maura," Lola said, turning more fully to face her.

The next few moments happened so quickly that nobody quite registered what had happened until it was over. Frost and Frankie finally emerged from the barn, and utterly confused, the latter asked, "What the hell's going on out here?" At the sudden new voice, Lola became alarmed and fired a shot, grazing Maura's shoulder. The sound of the gunshot had likewise startled Maura, who managed to fire a bullet before collapsing suddenly to the ground from shock. It hit Lola in the arm, and she hissed in frustration and jumped on her horse, galloping away.

Jane let out a roar of anger, her face a perfect image of unadulterated fury. "Coward!" she yelled after Lola. "Frost—!"

"I got her!" And he was off on Frankie's horse, following the road Lola had gone down.

Jane threw herself onto the ground and shrugged off her vest, folding it clumsily under Maura's head. "W-what can I do?" she stammered. "Please, Dr. Isles, tell me what to do!"

"It's…all right," Maura gasped. "That bullet didn't even go through me, it just… just…"

"But there's so much blood," Jane said piteously.

Sparing a glance for her disproportionately bleeding shoulder, Maura winced and said, "Tourniquet."

"Frankie," Jane called out. "Go find someone nearby—get some cloth, as long a piece as they can spare."

As Frankie dutifully ran off, Maura said, "Jane, give me your hand."

Jane reached out and grasped Maura's sweaty hand. "Now what?"

"Just hold it."

"Why? What's that do?" Jane asked worriedly.

Maura had to smile at Jane's anxiety on her behalf. "It soothes me."

"I can do better than that," Jane whispered.

She leaned down and touched her forehead lightly against Maura's, tightening her grip on the doctor's hand. The scent of blood mixed with sweat and dirt overwhelmed Jane's nostrils, and she screwed her eyes shut as if that would block the smell. Maura felt her breathing become more shallow, but she wasn't sure if that was because of the pain or because she could feel Jane's hot breath breaking against her lips. Her eyes were shut as well, but even still, she could estimate that it would take very little effort for one of them to shift this into a kiss.

_You're brave, Jane, do it, please…_

"Breathe, Maura," Jane said quietly. "Breathe with me, all right?"

But just then, Jane heard a carriage driving up, and she pulled back as quickly as if a scorpion had leapt at her—but she kept her vice-like grip on Maura's hand. Korsak and Dr. Byron had jumped out of the carriage and were quickly making their way over, Frankie also appearing with cloth in hand.

"Good," Byron muttered, taking the cloth out of Frankie's hands. He knelt down next to Maura, raising an eyebrow at Jane, who wordlessly got to her feet. Carefully and purposefully averting her gaze, she missed the forlorn look in Maura's eyes when she slid her hand away.

"Frost just rode by and told us to get over here," Korsak said. Gesturing to the wreckage around him, he asked, "What the hell happened?"

"It was Hoyt," growled Jane.

"_What?_"

"One of his apprentices, I mean. A woman this time."

"A woman? Are you sure?"

"Surer than anything, Korsak. And damn it, Byron, don't just sit there, _do _something!"

Byron grimaced up at Jane and said, "She's going to be all right. It looks worse than it is. I'll just have to get her some place where I can clean the wound."

He scooped Maura up in his arms, and Jane had to physically restrain herself from reaching out to help. The excitement seemed to have been too much for Maura, who had finally blacked out and looked limp as a rag doll. Korsak reached out and put a hand on Jane's shoulder as Byron enlisted Frankie's help in getting Maura into the carriage and driving away.

"Korsak," Jane said in a broken whisper, turning miserably to face him. "This is all my fault. Maura tried protecting me."

"How d'you mean?"

"That rifle there. She got a hold of it when she—I guess she saw this girl had me at gunpoint. And she tried to stop her from taking me away."

"Dr. Isles did that?" Korsak asked, pretending for Jane's pride not to notice that she was getting tears in her eyes.

Jane nodded weakly. "Damn it, Korsak, I didn't ever want her to have to do something like this, and now she's hurt—!"

"She's gonna be okay, Jane, you heard the doc."

"No she's not, she's bleedin', she got shot at!" Jane cried. "And if it weren't for me, she would be fine! What the hell was I thinkin', Korsak? What the hell kind of right did I ever have to go around tryin' to be her friend? Look where I got her!"

"Jane, she's going to be all right," Korsak said in a more firm voice. It was authoritative and demanding, as if his word was law even in this case. "If I were you, I'd be a little more concerned about Mr. Fairfield. He's due to get back from Flagstaff tonight." When Jane swore and threw herself against the fence, Korsak hastily said, "I'll tell him, Jane."

"No Korsak, that's my job."

"No it ain't. This happened on my watch. Did you know this girl was gonna try to hurt you? Did you tell Maura to come to your aid? No. I will tell him, Jane. You go home."

All Jane wanted to do was go to Maura's side and be there when she came to, but for the first time in years she felt like too much of a coward. She couldn't bring herself to face Byron's judgmental face, or worse, whatever Maura's would be when she regained consciousness. Being wounded like that probably scared her off, made her realize how ridiculous and reckless it had been to befriend someone like Calamity Jane. And if it hadn't, Jane didn't feel worthy of asking her forgiveness just then. No matter what Korsak said, it was Jane's fault that Maura had gotten hurt.

Word spread fairly quickly of what had happened at the corral, but Jane hardly paid any attention. She just went to Angela's tavern and waited for Frost to come back. She wound up waiting in vain.

Garrett Fairfield came bursting into the tavern several hours later. The raucous laughter and jaunty piano-playing stopped almost instantly once everyone inside realized who had just walked in. More than half the patrons currently there had come in hopes of witnessing some kind of showdown between Jane and whoever had hurt Dr. Isles, or Jane and Garrett. Now it looked like they wouldn't be disappointed. The loudest sound in the breathless bar was easily that of Garrett's boots click-clacking against the newly cleaned floor as he strode angrily towards the spot where Jane was sitting.

"You," he snarled, infusing the single syllable with as much bile and fury as possible. "How _dare _you have the nerve—the utter _nerve_—to corrupt my fiancé like this! Thought it would be cute to teach her how to shoot a gun, huh? Because of you, Maura is horribly wounded, possibly disfigured! Can your minute, idiotic brain wrap itself around the fact that you have scarred her, physically and emotionally, for life?"

"Excuse me, young man," Angela said, walking over. "You have no business walking in here making these wild accusations to—"

"No, Ma," Jane said softly, reaching across the bar and touching Angela's arm. "It's okay. Mr. Fairfield's right."

"You're damn right I am!" Garrett said. "And I—" But he cut off here, looking confused. He had been expecting a fight or a denial at least, but he certainly didn't think Jane was going to just roll over. His accusingly pointing finger seemed a little silly now, but he didn't drop it when he took a step closer. "I have a duty to protect Maura, to make her feel safe in this town—"

"Then where were you this afternoon?" Frankie asked loudly, and several of the tavern patrons murmured their assent.

"You stay out of this!" Garrett growled, jabbing his finger in Frankie's chest. "And besides, I am out here to _work_, which is what I was doing! I make a living to one day support my wife—and, while I'm at it, contribute to society!" With a grimace, he turned back to Jane. "You hear that, you deviant? I will no longer permit Maura to spend time in this part of town. She will no longer be exposed to—to sick perversions of nature like you." Garrett made a show of turning on his heel and walking away. "From now on, she will sleep in the boarding house and then spend every waking moment in our _safe _part of town."

He had nearly reached the double doors when Jane finally decided to throw caution to the winds and call after him, "You really think you can keep her from seeing me?"

Her tone was calm yet fiery, having the effect of a velvet-covered hammer: the casual confidence of the remark disguised the full implications of it. Garrett's expression might have indicated that she had just punched him in the gut. Nobody in the tavern spoke a word, or even seemed to draw breath: all eyes were on Garrett or Jane, and then both when Garrett took five large, serious steps back to her.

"What did you say to me?" he asked in a dangerously low whisper.

"You heard me," Jane said in a low growl, looking him in the eye for the first time since he'd walked in. "If Maura still wants to see me, she will."

Without missing a beat, Garrett said, "She does not want to see you ever again, _Calamity_ Jane. That is one of the—it was _the _first thing she said to me when she regained consciousness! After today—after what happened today, she never wants to see you again!"

It made him all the more furious that Jane appeared unfazed. "I'll hear this from Maura before I believe it from you."

"Your impudence is truly remarkable, _madam_," Garrett said. "I have told you in all seriousness that Maura, _my_ _fiancé_, will never be seen in this part of town again, and you would not have the nerve to be seen in ours."

Jane finally stood up off the stool, and Garrett found himself wishing that she weren't quite so tall. In a calm voice she said, "You may think you own Maura, Mr. Fairfield, but you don't own me. Nobody owns me. I'm Calamity Jane. And I get what I want."

Garrett gave her face a backhanded slap, eliciting several gasps from the excited patrons, who were clearly now expecting a fight. Jane, for her part, hardly flinched at the blow and went on speaking.

"I admit I deserved that, Mr. Fairfield, because I recognize that if it weren't for her loyalty to me, Maura wouldn't have gotten wounded this afternoon. So slap me. I deserve it. But what's your next move, hm?" When she got no response, she stepped even closer to Garrett. "You know why I always get what I want, Mr. Fairfield? Because I _fight _for it. I don't throw money at someone else to go take care of _my_ problems. I'm gonna bring down the man responsible for doing this to Maura."

"You're a cheap crook and a menace to society," Garrett said through his teeth. "And so help me, if I catch you anywhere near Maura again, I will have you thrown behind bars." He turned to leave once more.

When he reached the door, a bullet went whizzing past his head, splitting a rail just outside the saloon. Though he jumped noticeably and his heart hammered against his chest, Garrett refused to give whoever it was the pleasure of seeing him turn fully around. He did, however, turn his head slightly at the sound of Jane's voice.

"Was that a threat, Mr. Fairfield?" she asked with a hint of a chuckle, lowering her revolver. "Because if it was, any of the fine fellas in here will tell ya that I take every threat as a challenge. And I _never _lose."

Still without turning all the way around, Garrett mumbled, "We'll see about that," and went banging through the doors.

Chatter resumed immediately after he left, and Jane sat wearily back down on the stool. Her legs were shaky like jelly; she had acted much more tough and sure of herself than she really felt. In all honesty, she was still wracked with guilt over Maura's injury, and she had strongly considered never approaching the doctor again, for the woman's own safety. But having Garrett burst in here, stinking of money and presumptuousness—it drove Jane crazy. She had been so rude to him because she wanted, she _needed_ so desperately for him to be wrong. It'd dawned then on Jane that if she could never look forward to seeing and talking to Maura again, she didn't know what she'd do.

Jane glanced up to see Angela watching her carefully. She got the notion that the older woman was witnessing the faux-confidence seeping out of Jane, and knew it.

"Ma?" Jane whispered, desperate not to stammer. "D'you—do you think it's true? Do you think Maura never wants to see me again?"

Before Angela could reply, a partly drunken man came up and slapped an arm around Jane's shoulder. "Calamity Jane!" he bellowed with a laugh. "I've got two bits on ya—that you'll take Fairfield down in a week!"

"A dollar says three days!" chimed in another man.

"My bone to pick is with a man called Hoyt, not Fairfield," Jane said, though she was grateful for the support.

"Okay then," said the first man, switching gears quickly. "Two bits that you get Maura Isles back here within the week!"

"Three days!"

"Two!"

Jane had stopped listening, feeling oddly numb. It took her a few moments to realize that Angela was touching her arm. "Janie. I think you need to go to her."

"You do?"

"Yes. I admit, sometimes I worried about a lady like Dr. Isles throwing in her lot with someone a little more… rowdy, like you, by your own admission. But this ain't your fault what happened, Jane. You two are good for each other. You're good friends. That means you gotta get in each other's scrapes now and again. The Maura you and I both know will want to see you, and as soon as possible."

And that was how Jane wound up scaling the outer wall of Melody's boarding house two hours later.

She had waited across the street until the last light went out inside the building, then skirted around it to avoid the eye of the night guard. So long as she remained quiet, there was no reason to believe she would be detected, although climbing the wall proved to be no easy feat. If she hadn't noticed that Maura's window had been slightly ajar, she probably wouldn't have even bothered trying this, but as it was, the opportunity had been too good to pass up. Jane managed to scale most of the wall before shifting over to the wooden platform just outside Maura's window that covered the boarding house's porch. With a bit more patience and hard work, she was eventually granted success, and Jane slowly pushed Maura's window up enough to clamber inside the room.

Were she not so exhausted herself, Jane thought she'd have been content just to spend all night watching Maura sleep. It occurred to her then that maybe it would be vastly inconsiderate and inappropriate to wake Maura right now. After all, she'd had an extremely taxing and no doubt exhausting day. The more Jane thought about it, the more foolish it felt to have come. Selfish, too. Even if it was a gross exaggeration to say Maura never wanted to see her again, surely she might at least want _some _time away from Jane.

_You fool_, Jane thought miserably to herself. _You lovesick, stupid, irredeemable fool. Leave now. If she ever wants to see you, she'll send word_.

But oh, it was so hard to leave! This image of Maura was so much better than the one that had been haunting Jane all day: blanched and sickly, contorted with pain. Now she appeared utterly at peace, content even, breathing steadily and unlabored. The nagging in Jane's gut telling her to leave was dwarfed considerably by the desire to stay and watch Maura, knowing she could be dreamily untroubled for the next few hours. She could be mad at Jane when she woke up, but right now, Jane could at least pretend nothing bad had happened. She pictured Garrett lying next to Maura in the bed, holding her, and a fierce jealousy went coursing through Jane's every fiber, pumping like a deadly poison. _Garrett Fairfield …he ain't good enough for her. Nothing about him is even close to being good enough for her!_

Jane truly hadn't the faintest idea how long she'd been sitting there, but finally she forced herself to stand. It would be best to leave before Maura woke up. Then—

"Jane."

The sound of her own name nearly made Jane's heart stop, and she swiveled silently around to face the bed. Maura's eyes were still closed, but a few moments later, she moaned softly and said Jane's name again. The moonlight made it just possible for Jane to see something, probably Maura's arm or hand, shifting underneath the bedcovers. Someone less attuned to Maura's every move and every feature might not have noticed, but Jane could've sworn she saw Maura's jaw clench.

Surely she was sleeping?

But then her eyes opened, immediately latching onto Jane's frightened ones. For a moment they seemed frozen in time: Maura on her back on the bed, face tilted serenely towards the window, where Jane had one foot up on the sill. She had difficulty breathing as she tried in vain to will her fiercely beating heart to return to its normal pace. For some reason, Maura didn't appear all that surprised to see her. She didn't look upset, or particularly happy …just tired.

"Jane?" she said throatily, her voice sounding course with tiredness, as if it had been coated with gravel.

"Maura, I…" She had no idea what to say; it was like her already-limited vocabulary had just up and abandoned her.

Maura cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound a little less cracked. "You're blocking my view, Jane."

"What?"

"The moon. I can't see the moon."

Jane glanced out the window and saw the brightly shining orb, glaring down at her like a spotlight. After a brief hesitation, she stepped down from the window and moved to the side, allowing the moon's light to fill the room a little more fully. Maura inhaled deeply, looking and sounding unaccountably content.

"Jane, do you remember what you said to me about the moon?" Maura asked after a long pause. Rather than respond, Jane folded her hands behind her back and stared down at the floor, making it unclear whether she had forgotten or just didn't want to speak. Either way, Maura took it upon herself to answer the question: "You said it was like a lamp God left on to let you know He hadn't given up on you."

"Maura," Jane sighed. "I was just talkin'."

"No you weren't," Maura said softly. "You were composing. A poem, I think. A poem that happens not to rhyme. You can try and duck in those shadows, Calamity Jane, but God hasn't given up on you yet. And neither have I."

"I hardly know what's the matter with ya," Jane said with a soft, nervous laugh. "You shoulda given up on me long ago."

"That's not what friends do."

"I should go. I let you get involved, I—"

"Jane, come here."

Jane had taken a step back to the window, but after quick deliberation, could not resist Maura's invitation. She turned and walked over to the bed, kneeling next to it and taking the hand Maura had extended towards her.

"You know," Maura whispered, "I didn't peg you as the type to give up so quickly." She smiled at Jane's vaguely confused expression and tried to squeeze her hand. "Are you really going to let your new dream die, just because of this… unexpected turn? You told me your new dream was to make me happy." Knowing the answer, she asked, "Did you just say that to be nice to me on my birthday?"

Jane brought up her other hand so she could clasp Maura's between them. "No, Maura, I really meant it."

"Then don't leave me," Maura plaintively murmured. "I don't …I don't want you to go."

It was difficult to ask for what it was she really wanted, and she tried desperately to convey it without speaking. Jane just silently gazed back at her, trying to read those warm, hazel eyes.

"What is it ya want, Maura?" Jane whispered. "What do you want?" She glanced quickly over her shoulder. "You want the moon?" She gave Maura's hand a quick kiss. "Just say the word, and I'll a throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

Maura grinned at the romantic notion, shaking her head slightly at the lengths of Jane's poetic nature. "Come lie down," she said.

"W-what?"

With what appeared to be great effort, Maura took her hand out of Jane's and pulled back some of the covers. "Stay with me tonight."

"Are you…sure?"

"Of course. Please."

A new level of terror blinded Jane quite suddenly. Yes the anxiety was a sort of thrilling one, but she could hardly appreciate it, she was so scared. Not wanting to keep Maura waiting, Jane gulped and stood up to pull off her boots. Once this was accomplished, she asked Maura if she could shut the window, and Maura nodded, adding as Jane completed this task that she ought to do whatever would make her the most comfortable in this situation. Considering the lilt to Maura's tone, this offer gave Jane pause, but Maura said nothing else. She remained silent as Jane slowly unbuttoned her shirt, waiting for Maura to ask her to stop, but no such request came. When she deposited the shirt and her gloves on the back of a chair, Maura waited with bated breath for Jane to keep undressing, but that was as far as she went.

In only a long-sleeved white undershirt and a pair of corduroy pants, Jane clenched her hands into fists and walked stiffly back towards the bed. Once she reached the edge, though, she hovered awkwardly, as if dangling on the precipice of a great cliff.

"Jane, if you don't…want…"

"No, no, I d—it's fine," Jane said quickly, climbing deftly into the bed.

Maura smiled to herself, grateful that her plan had worked. As Jane pulled the bedcovers back up, Maura gently laid her arm across the woman's stomach. She felt Jane instantly tense at her touch, but Maura did not relinquish her. A few moments later, Maura shifted her head so that it rested on Jane's shoulder, near her neck. From this position, she could feel Jane's heartbeat—something Jane was acutely aware of, and this painful awareness was part of what accounted for her wildly beating heart. She was equally uncomfortable with how much her chest was heaving, and she knew he doctor would be able to tell, with her arm draped over Jane so that her hand curled on Jane's other shoulder. Maura stretched out her fingers so that they traced the edge of Jane's jaw. Jane cursed inwardly as her heartbeat spiked involuntarily again and her jaw tightened. Why was Maura acting like this?

For all of Jane's bewilderment, Maura wasn't even sure what good her sudden bravery was doing (what she did suspect was that it might have been initiated by the shot of brandy she had snuck at Byron's house to try and calm her nerves). Nervous as Jane was, Maura couldn't put into words how much it soothed her to have the other woman so close by. It took about a minute, but once Jane's heartbeat had gone back to normal, Maura finally spoke again:

"Jane, please know…despite today's excitement, I never feel more safe or more protected than I do when I'm with you."

"How can that be?" Jane asked in a shaky whisper. "I've only ever gotten ya in trouble, in dangerous situations."

"But you showed me how to get out of them. And besides that, I know you would do anything—possibly outside the realms of sanity—to keep me from harm."

"That's not true," Jane said. "I wish to God it was, but _if _it was, you wouldn't have gotten hurt today. You wouldn't have—"

"Sh." Maura pulled back, leaning on her elbow to look down at Jane, taking one of her nervously gesturing hands with her own. "I don't want to hear you apologizing for what happened."

"But it's my fault," Jane protested.

Maura put her index finger on Jane's lips, instantly shutting her up. "Don't say that," she murmured. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, or at least Lola's. Or Hoyt's, rather."

Jane wanted fiercely to fight this, but that would require opening her mouth, which Maura's finger was still pressed against. Shifting her lips in the slightest bit could result in something dangerous …she might more easily taste the salt in Maura's sweat…

"Promise me," Maura said softly. "Promise you won't try to take the blame anymore." After a lengthy pause, she figured Jane was afraid of opening her mouth. "Do you promise?"

When Jane nodded weakly, Maura moved away her finger and leaned in closer, leaving a gentle kiss near the corner of Jane's mouth. She felt Jane stiffen underneath her, life seemingly zapped from her body. She was totally unresponsive, as if she had never received so much as a father's kiss to her cheek. Maura took Jane's hand once more and turned it upwards, so she could see Jane's scarred palm. Gazing mournfully at the wounded tissue, Maura bent down to kiss the rough skin. This kiss lasted noticeably longer than the last; Maura wasn't fully sure of her intentions, but she knew at least that she wanted to feel Jane relax. After what felt like several minutes, Maura sensed a shudder beneath her, as if Jane had been holding her breath and had only just exhaled (which was exactly the case). Finally Maura lifted her gaze to Jane's, pulling her mouth away as well.

After a stunned silence, all Jane could choke out was, "Why…?"

Though she'd been ignorant of her own reasoning just a moment ago, the words seemed to just come to Maura: "I don't want you to feel like you have to be alone, Jane. I know you have Frost, but… he's more like your follower, your disciple."

"He's—my partner…"

"After you recruited him. I want you to feel as safe and loved and protected with me as I do by you. I know you like to act like one of the men—emotionless, hard, brave, with this… rawhide exterior. You feel as though you must always impress everybody with your strength and courage, and it's all admirable of course, but Jane, it does _not_ need to come at the cost of your softness …your kindness, your gentleness. I know you perceive those traits as weak, but… they're my favorite things about you."

This pronouncement was met with a very long silence. Jane knew she must be gaping in disbelief, but she wasn't sure if she was speechless because she was still tired, because she was inarticulate, or because she was struggling to interpret all of what Maura had just said. She was painfully conscious of a bead of sweat trickling down from her forehead, but Maura's eyes remained patiently on her own.

"Maura, I…I… don't know what to say…"

Reaching for Jane's hand under the covers, Maura squeezed it between both her own. "You don't _have _to say anything."

Jane was floored, and wondered if Maura would come to her senses in the morning. Nevertheless, when Maura lazily shifted a leg over both of Jane's, Jane responded by gently resting her hand near Maura's thigh. She waited tensely for some kind of disapproval, but all she heard was a soft sound of assent from Maura, who was looking at her so tenderly that Jane almost felt like she could smile again.

"It's all right, Jane," she said. "You can close your eyes."

With decreasing hesitancy, Jane tightened her grip on Maura's thigh and edged in closer, her head tucking slightly beneath Maura's chin. Smiling to herself, Maura once again draped her arm over Jane's body, keeping her close, wishing she could always keep her this close.

Poor, rough-and-tumble Calamity Jane. After several minutes, her breathing and heartbeat were steady at last, indicating that she had finally fallen asleep. Feelings of pure adoration for this woman washed over Maura, filling her and flowing through her like sweet honey. Jane had such a tough surface, and she was always putting herself in danger for other people's sakes. Maura felt an almost maternal twinge, a desire to protect and shelter this hardened woman.

She was so desperately in need of love.

Really, they both were, and that's what made this all start out as the best night's sleep either of them had ever had. Unfortunately, neither was prepared to wake up inside a nightmare.


	41. Choices

**A/N**: To answer the question of many, no, I don't hate you guys! The reason I left that last line was to sort of segue into this chapter without having it be too abrupt, if that makes sense. I have to say, this one was really difficult to write, because I knew it would be a scenario that'd be hard to please everybody. That said, here it is.  
><strong>*Note<strong>: This involves Hoyt, so unpleasantness is ahead. It doesn't quite leave the T-rating realm, but be advised.

* * *

><p>Jane woke up to a painful throbbing sensation in her head. She tried to move her hands, but she couldn't pull them further than half a foot apart—they were bound by something metal. Groaning, Jane opened her eyes and confusion was soon replaced by terror. This wasn't Maura's room at the boarding house, and they weren't alone. They were outside someplace, in a wooded area, a fire burning not three feet from where Jane lay. She sat up abruptly to see Maura lying on the other side of the fire, still unconscious. Charles Hoyt was calmly sitting by her feet, sharpening a knife. With a short gasp, Jane sat up.<p>

"Ah, Janie," he hissed, smiling at her over the fire. "I wondered which of you would be the first to come to. I guess I should've known it'd be you." He nodded at someone over her shoulder. "You win this time, Mason."

Hardly able to breathe for fear, Jane twisted around and saw a young man standing behind her, pointing a pistol at her head.

"Nice looking boy, isn't he?" Hoyt asked, drawing Jane's attention back to him. "He works for—or rather, _used _to work for our good friend the Sheriff over in Green Forge." Laughing softly, insidiously, he waved the knife at Jane. "You were smart, girlie, you really were. Korsak's got this county in his pocket, and he took your word and told the Sheriff that I'm the man who ruined your life. But I didn't _ruin _your life, did I, Janie? Didn't I help make you into what you are today? Aren't you proud to be Jake Wyatt?"

When Jane said nothing to refute this, Mason laughed in surprise. "You really _are _Jake Wyatt?" he asked elatedly. "Hoyt, you're brilliant. And we got Jake Wyatt scared out of his mind!"

"Let her go," Jane said weakly through her teeth, knowing she was in no position to bargain. "Let her go, Hoyt, and I swear I won't fight you. I'll let you—you can do anything ya want to me, I'll stay with ya for as long as you want, just please—_please _let her go!"

Hoyt stared at her, then nodded at Mason. They essentially switched places, Mason going to stand over Maura while Hoyt came and sat next to Jane. "I think you know as well as I do that you ain't got nothin' on me, Janie. I'm gonna have what I want and do what I want, and I can do that just as good with our friend Maura over there as I can without her. In fact, having her here makes this a whole lot more fun, don't you think?"

"Please," Jane begged, tears starting to leak out of her eyes. "Please, Hoyt, if there's a single drop of humanity left in that body of yours, for the love of God, don't hurt her!"

"Why Janie, I'm touched!" Hoyt laughed. "Really, I am. And you know what else?" He reached down to wipe away one of Jane's tears, but she yanked her head back violently, grimacing at his touch. "I think I'm a little bit jealous. You like Dr. Isles an awful lot, don't you, Janie? Is she your best friend? Or in this case, should I address you as Mr. Wyatt? Did you get a little confused, Janie, and fall in love? Because when I found you and Dr. Isles in bed together, you certainly looked comfortable to me—and you also certainly did not look like a man." The look of abject distress on Jane's face only further fed Hoyt's gleeful perverseness. "Oh Janie, I wish I'd had a camera so I could've taken a photograph for ya. I almost hated to knock ya out. You two with your arms around each other, and Dr. Isles' leg between yours? It was pretty as a picture. But like I said, I got mighty jealous of Dr. Isles here. I always wanted to be the person you laid with like that. Still…"

"You gonna make me beg?" Jane growled.

Hoyt leered her at her. "For what, an explanation? No. I'd be too happy to share that with you, Janie. Seems I' m not the only one jealous of the relationship you share with Dr. Isles." He nodded at Mason. "Why don't you give Maura a shake there, son? I'm sure she would be interested in hearing this too."

Smirking over at Jane, Mason bent down and shook Maura's shoulder. She was totally unresponsive, even when Mason gave her cheek a small slap.

"Whoa, there, bucko!" Hoyt laughed when Jane had swore and tried to get up. He shoved her back to the ground and held his knife to her throat.

"What'd you do to her?" Jane snarled.

"Nothin' much," Hoyt answered. "Not more than we did to you. She probably just ain't used to the drug, that's all. Mason, get the smelling salts out of my bag. That oughtta wake her up right fast."

Mason quickly did as he was told, and Hoyt grabbed Jane by the arm, shifting her more to the side of the fire so she could get a clear view of Maura. After a few passes of the smelling salts, Maura coughed and opened her eyes. Her hands were also bound, and she looked like she had been roughed up, spurring on more tears Jane had to blink furiously away to see straight. It almost physically hurt to see the fear in Maura's eyes as she sat up, saw her constraints, and looked from Mason to Jane to Hoyt.

"Welcome to the party, Dr. Isles," Hoyt said, his wicked smile widening. "We were just getting to the fun and games. Before we do that, though, perhaps you'd be interested in learning who exactly I am."

"I know who you are," Maura spat.

Hoyt raised his eyebrows. "Do you? Have we met?" He looked inquisitively at Jane. "Have she and I met?" With an overbearing sense of theatricality, Hoyt got to his feet and walked with heavy footsteps over to Maura. Her expression was a mix of fear and disgust as he squatted down and grabbed her chin, pulling her closer. She could tell he was scrutinizing her every feature, trying to place her, and shivered when he laughed softly. He remembered meeting her at the train station in Topeka, but it dawned on him that that instance hadn't been the only time they had run into each other. "Don't tell me. You're not that girl from the tavern, are you? I'd probably have to free you of a bit more of your top to be sure…" His hand trailed along the neckline of Maura's dress.

"Hoyt!" Jane shouted in a threatening voice.

"You looked rather good in that uniform, Dr. Isles," Hoyt said casually, withdrawing his hand. "You should've heard Janie—I mean, Jake—go on after you left, how we weren't supposed to even look at you. I suppose you saw the way he, or rather _she_, looked at you? It was indecent. I'd have been embarrassed _for _you if I hadn't been looking, too."

Anticipating angry retribution from Jane for this remark, Mason walked over and pinned her shoulder to the ground with a strong hand.

Smirking at Jane, Hoyt leaned over Maura so that she could feel his putrid breath on her face. "Did Janie try to write it off, Dr. Isles? Did she try to make it sound like she was just in character? Because nobody's that good an actor, even little Janie here. Men can always tell when other men are interested in someone. I been around a long time. There ain't nothin' anybody can hide from me." He cleared his throat and sat up a bit. "You're probably wondering how exactly you came to be here. One minute you're huddled up all cozy in bed with this strong, beautiful woman in your arms—and the next, you're God knows where, living on borrowed time. Well. Jane and me have a past, as I'm sure you know. Ain't that right, Janie?"

"Sure, we go back real far," Jane huffed in a brave attempt at scorn.

He chuckled at her before returning his gaze to Maura. "I took her mother. Maria. Oh, she was _gorgeous_, Dr. Isles. And then I had to kill her and leave, and I had to come back. It didn't seem right to leave a man alone to raise three kids, so I thought I'd make things easier on him and just… rid him of that responsibility. And any other responsibilities. But I don't _enjoy _killing people alone, Dr. Isles, oh no. That's how come I usually go for couples, but Jane's father, well, he didn't have a wife anymore. But he did have a stunning specimen of a daughter."

"Stop," Maura whispered, trembling in fear. She already knew what had happened, but it had been hard enough hearing Jane talk about it. She didn't want to hear the man who'd done it gloat. "Stop, don't…"

"You aren't enjoying the story? It has a wonderful ending," Hoyt said. "Sheriff Korsak rode in to save the day. He was too late to save Tom, but Janie here got by. You want to know the catch? I finish what I start."

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," Jane said shortly.

"Yes, Jane. You should have."

"Where's Lola?" Maura asked suddenly.

Looking from Jane to Maura, Hoyt said, "Look at you two! Both so caring and considerate towards your fellow women. No need to worry, Dr. Isles. Lola is safe. She'd be here herself if she hadn't suspected she was getting followed. So she stopped by Green Forge and told Mason here to break me out himself. It was the perfect night, anyway. Janie wasn't watching me at the jail; she had gone home. According to Lola, it was somebody's birthday. Ain't that sweet, Dr. Isles? Aren't women sweet, Mason?"

"Just precious," Mason snickered.

With a great flourish, Hoyt pulled a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "Now Dr. Isles, I'm sure that like Jane, you're wondering how exactly you got here. As I was telling Jane a moment ago, jealousy is a powerful tool. Would you care to take a look at this, Dr. Isles?" He held the slip of paper in front of her eyes, and delighted in the look of disbelief passing over Maura's face as she read it. "Go on, doctor. Read it out loud for Janie. Tell her what it is."

Maura struggled to find her voice; her throat felt tighter and drier than it ever had. "That's a lie," she finally uttered. "That isn't legitimate."

"Oh, I assure you, it is," Hoyt said. "Isn't that his signature? Don't leave Jane in suspense, Dr. Isles. Tell her what it is."

"It's a bank note," Maura said, shaking her head. "For seventy-five dollars, and it's… it's signed by Garrett."

"What're you sayin', Hoyt?" Jane hissed. "Fairfield might not like me, but he wouldn't pay ya to _kill_ me."

Nonchalantly placing the check back in his pocket, Hoyt said, "Oh you're quite right, Janie, he wouldn't. So ain't that something? This man was willing to hand over three quarters of a hundred dollars just for me to take you out of town. Would you girls like to hear the whole story? It's a real good one, I promise. Mason, go ahead and sit yourself down; this'll take a minute." Hoyt sighed contentedly and leaned back on his palms, as if he had all the time in the world. "Lola's quite a pretty girl, isn't she? You ladies might be surprised how far a pretty girl can go. Her influence, that is."

Jane looked over in disgust at Mason, who was grinning. "You turned on your Sheriff, on your _town_, for pretty face?"

Shrugging, Mason said, "I thought it'd be fun. Hoyt and I here speak the same language. We both like being in positions of power. Lola came to see me the night Hoyt got brought in. Using very convincing methods, she helped me see that it didn't make no difference holding power over 'good' or 'bad' people so long as you're the one callin' the shots."

"You ain't the one callin' the shots, moron," Jane said. "_He _is."

"Well, Janie, that's how come I call 'em apprentices," Hoyt explained. "After observing me for a while, they get good enough to go out and terrorize people on their own. Mason will do that soon once he learns enough. And he's in for a hell of a lesson tonight."

"What does my fiancé have to do with all of this?" Maura nearly shouted.

"Patience, Dr. Isles, patience," Hoyt said, holding up his hands. "Once Mason took care of the Sheriff and the other deputies, I thought it'd be a real nice idea to bring him over to your little patch of heaven at Hollow Creek. So we rode on over, and I showed Mason all the places I recognized—the boarding house, the textile factory, the Sheriff's office… only, Angela's saloon had moved to this big old tavern. It sounded like there was a fight going on, and I told Mason he'd better clear out in case something happened. I just stayed put on the porch, because it didn't seem right to go into a tavern while a big fight was goin' on. You wanna know what it was about, Dr. Isles?"

Jane swore and tried again to get up, but Mason held her firmly down.

"Aw, don't be shy, Janie!" Hoyt laughed. "I tell ya, Dr. Isles, I ain't seen such a pissing contest since the War. Mr. Fairfield was afraid he was losin' you, and tried to get Janie never to see you again. You'd have been proud of her, though; you'd have been touched. She stood her ground. Even fired a shot, if I ain't mistaken. She stood up to Fairfield like a man, and he left that tavern with his tail between his legs, oh yes…"

* * *

><p><em> Garrett was fuming as he stormed out of the tavern and heard everyone begin celebrating again. Swearing under his breath, he jammed his fists into his pockets and stalked towards his carriage. He wished Jane were a man so he could do something active, more than merely slap her, really lay down the law. Right now, the only thing he could think of to put him at ease would be to smoke about five cigars down to the ring. The only thing that stopped him from driving home right then and doing just that was the fact that somebody called out his name. He had just barely passed the far edge of the tavern's porch, and a man was sitting on one of the chairs, head bowed.<em>

_ It was too dark to tell who it was. "Who—excuse me, who're you?" Garrett asked._

_ The man struck a match and held it up to the end of the cigar in his mouth, throwing light on his face. "Go by Hoyt. Cigar, Fairfield?" After a moment's hesitation, Garrett climbed up onto the porch and sat down in the chair next to Hoyt, taking one of his cigars. Lighting it for him, Hoyt said, "Heard you've got a bit of a vermin problem. Know a woman who goes by Jane Johnson? Sister to Frankie and Tommy?"_

_ Garrett took off his hat and nervously laid it on his knee. "What—or…how—?"_

_ "That was quite a fight you two just had," Hoyt chuckled. "And it's how I figured out your name, if you've been wondering. I been waitin' for an opportune moment to step in. Janie and I have a bit of a history."_

_ "What kind of history?" Garrett asked uncertainly._

_ Hoyt let a steady stream of smoke dissipate fully before he answered. "We were lovers, Mr. Fairfield, a long time ago. Ripped apart at the very peak of our passion. I had to leave town rather suddenly, and poor Janie never quite recovered from the loss. She wasn't ever the same after that, I heard. I understand she's hard to handle."_

_ Garrett sighed and leaned back in the chair. "She's as hard to control as a man."_

_With a loud laugh, Garrett genially clapped a hand on Garrett's back. "Ah, yes, Mr. Fairfield! But underneath all that, Janie's just a woman like any other. And deep down, all women want us to keep 'em in line, son. It's your job. Your __right__. If a girl's fightin' you on something, sometimes you've got to slap her around a little. Spank her. Lock her in her room. Remind her who's boss."_

_ Garrett pulled himself out from under Hoyt's arm, saying, "With all due respect, sir, I disagree. I don't think women should be beaten." But then he realized he had just slapped Calamity Jane across the face. "Er… most women, anyhow. Because most women know their place without having to be told."_

_ "Sure, sure," Hoyt said. "That's a fine idea, Fairfield, and I admire it. But Jane's different. She __needs__ that reminder. And she's tough, so she can take it. Like you made out, she ain't a normal lady. But you know something? I think that's what I like about her, that fire. She had that in her even when she was younger. Boy, I'd sure like to take her with me."_

_ "With you?" Garrett asked, looking up._

_ "Oh yes, son. This town is… charming, sure, but I don't think I could stand to stay put here anymore. Sure a fella feels safe under Sheriff Korsak's watch, and it's always a good time at Angela's, but …I like open land. I like being free to go where I like. And I think—well, if Janie would take me, and come along, I'd be just about the happiest man in the world."_

_ Sighing resignedly, Garrett rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Well sir, to be honest, that'd probably make me the other happiest man in the world."_

_ "Why, what do you mean, Mr. Fairfield?"_

_ "Well…you see, sir, I got a fiancé. She and I come from back East."_

_ "China?"_

_ "Boston," Garrett said with a laugh. "And well, Maura—my fiancé—she's gone and gotten herself pretty attached to Jane, and I'm not sure why or how. All I know is that… well, Maura was brought up to be a proper lady, and she's always been one. Until Jane came along, and…" He drifted off, wary of offending Hoyt._

_ But Hoyt just put his arm back around Garrett's shoulders and said, "Jane made a right real mess of things, hm? It's all right, son, you can say it! Janie's not the kind of woman a gentleman wants his fiancé, the future mother of his children, spending time with. She ain't fit for it. I reckon by now she's probably fit to lie over my lap and get paddled a few times for tryin' to corrupt a lady."_

_ "She needs a strong hand, I grant you that," Garrett conceded. "Normally I don't believe in laying a hand on women, but this one…" He shook his head and jabbed this thumb in the direction of the tavern. "She fired a bullet at me!" _

_ He looked slightly affronted when Hoyt just threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, sorry, son! That sure sounds like Janie, all right. A real spitfire. You see this, boy?" He held his hand out, offering it to Garrett. "Go on, take it." When Garrett did so, Hoyt squeezed so hard that the younger man actually sat up in alarm before Hoyt chuckled and released him. "You think that's a strong enough hand, Fairfield?"_

_ Garrett frowned and flexed his fingers in wonderment. Hoyt didn't look like he'd have had the strength to grip something so tightly. "That is quite a handshake you got there, Mr. Hoyt. I imagine Jane could use somebody like you."_

_ "Hell, boy, I taught her everything she knows. She can fire a gun, throw a lasso, swear up a storm because of me. I understand that to a man of your means and social standing, that probably don't seem too proper. But I can't help it, that's how I like my women. There's never really been anyone for me but Janie, though." He leaned back with a forlorn sigh. "She's the reason I came back here, you know. I was passin' through and thought it might be worth it to come by and ask her to come along with me." _

_ After a brief hesitation, Garrett leaned over and lowered his voice. "You know… I hear Jane Johnson likes to travel a lot herself. All over."_

_ "Really? What for?"_

_ "I dunno," Garrett said with a smile. "Maybe she was looking for you!" They laughed softly and after it died out, Garrett said, "What would it take?"_

_ "Sorry?"_

_ "What would it take for you to leave Hollow Creek with Jane… and never come back?" _

_ Hoyt looked back at him long and hard, trying to gauge his seriousness. The laugh had gone out of Garrett's expression, and he looked completely serious. This was just another business proposition. "Janie's worth everything to me," Hoyt finally said. "She deserves to be treated right, and I ain't got much money." _

_ Garrett pulled a bank note out from one of his inside jacket pockets. "Well how much do you need? A hundred dollars?"_

_ "Oh, Mr. Fairfield! Such charity from a stranger? I could never accept."_

_ "Sir, you'd be doing me a real favor. I just want my fiancé back. And anything that's going to keep away her major distraction is priceless. A hundred dollars."_

_ "Son, no. I couldn't—"_

_ "At least! Please, let me help you get what you need, just to get started. You need at least __some__ money."_

_ "Well, that __is__ true…but I couldn't take more than…say, forty."_

_ "Eighty."_

_ "Fifty."_

_ "Seventy-five."_

_ This was gold. This was too easy, insultingly so. "Well boy," Hoyt chuckled, "I guess I'd be something of a real fool to let this Christian charity slip through my fingers..."_

* * *

><p>"Yessir, Dr. Isles, that's a mighty kind man you're set to marry," Hoyt said. "Of course he had no idea I planned on taking Jane with me tonight for free, but I figured so long as he was offering a little money, why not take it? So I sent him on his merry way back home, and Mason and I waited several hours. We had to take out the deputy guarding the boarding house, which is where Mr. Fairfield mentioned you were staying when he got into that brawl with Jane in the tavern. Simple matter, then, of looking up your name in the registry, going to your room, and knocking out both you and Janie here. You two looked so peaceful in your sleep. What a nice surprise it was to see Janie was with you, Dr. Isles. It saved us a trip."<p>

"Why her, did Fairfield pay you to kidnap his fiancé?" Jane growled.

"You know, he didn't?" Hoyt said. "That was just a stroke of my own imagination. But don't worry, Dr. Isles. I'm not gonna kill you." He leaned over Maura, whispering into her ear so Jane couldn't hear when he added, "_Rape _you, maybe …but not kill you." The look of pure terror on Maura's face when he pulled back was almost worth more than the seventy-five dollars from Garrett. "Mason," he said, getting to his feet. "I need to get something out of my saddlebag. Why don't you come with me, and give the girls a moment alone?"

Getting hesitantly to his feet, Mason asked, "Is… that such a good idea?"

Looking surprised that Mason would even find it necessary to ask such a question, Hoyt raised his eyebrows. "Certainly. They're bound. Unarmed. You've got a loaded pistol. You keep your eye on them, though." He gently patted Mason's arm and said, "This way."

Hoyt's horse was only a few yards away, keeping him easily in sight but out of earshot as Jane and Maura lay in silence. Maura felt as if she had gone into shock, unable to move and barely able to process what was happening. Due to prior experience, Jane probably could have handled it slightly better, but all bets were off because she hadn't been taken alone. She tried desperately to think of something, anything, she could say to Maura to apologize, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

When Maura finally spoke, Jane couldn't hear her at first over the still-crackling fire. "Jane. Jane?"

"Yes, Maura?" she asked in a cracked whisper.

"Don't…"

"Maura," Jane cut her off. "I don't know how you plan on finishin' that sentence, but I don't want ya to try. I can tell by your tone you ain't gonna get mad at me, like ya should be." With great difficulty, she rolled herself onto her side so she could look Maura in the eye. "And I won't tell ya it's gonna be all right when I don't know that it will be."

Her hazel eyes were swimming with new tears. "I know, Jane, I…"

Jane kept talking as if Maura hadn't interrupted her. "But I'm gonna do everything I can to get you out of this. I might …I probably won't make it myself. And in case I don't, I want you to know something." She took a shaky breath, watching as Hoyt loaded more bullets into his firearm. "Rizzoli," she whispered.

"What?"

"Rizzoli. My name is Jane Rizzoli."

A small sob escaped Maura, and she reached in vain for the person she instantly realized she loved more fully and more deeply than anyone else she had ever known. "Jane—Jane, I—"

"Time's up, girls," Hoyt said, walking back and crouching down between them. "Hope you enjoyed your talk. You've had your fun, and now it's time for the games." He flicked out a scalpel and moved towards Jane, putting a knee on either side of her waist and pressing his free palm against her collar. "How shall I start, Janie? Plunge this into your neck?"

"_No!_" Maura cried out.

Hoyt smirked over at her. "Now Dr. Isles, you should know better than to make such a noise when a person is hovering over someone else with a lethal instrument in hand. I'm skipping town, Janie, and I'm taking you with me. I don't care in how many pieces." He pressed the sharp tip of the scalpel to her neck, just deeply enough to draw blood. "Now ain't that beautiful," he whispered over Jane's soft sounds of pain. "It's why I like having a witness, Dr. Isles. Gives me somebody else to appreciate my fine work, because Janie here can't see how lovely the blood in her neck looks. Or actually… Mason, switch with me again. I think Janie should get a chance to see how pretty this is."

Mason came and knelt by Jane's side, holding a gun in her direction as Hoyt went to hover over Maura instead. He guided her to sit up a little, so she would be more visible to Jane, but this position also gave her the leverage required to muster up the ability to spit in his face. For the first time that night, the smugness in his expression gave way to something else, shock, but he quickly got over it and laughed.

"Oh yes, this is a real lady," he said, looking over his shoulder at Jane. "But I don't care how much of a fight you girls put up. I'll win. I _always_ win."

When he turned back to put the scalpel at Maura's neck, something in Jane snapped. There was no slow, methodical way to get out of this. There could be no bargaining, no stalling for time, not even any planning. All she knew was that Maura Isles was on the brink of being seriously wounded or killed, and Jane had to do whatever she could to prevent that from happening.

"HOYT! Don't you touch her!"

Ignoring this outburst, he firmly gripped one of Maura's shoulders to keep her steady as gave her a mark to match Jane's. "You're going to feel a little pinch, doctor."

"No! _Stop it!_"

Mason lost his patience. "Shut up!" he yelled, leaning over Jane's face as threateningly as he could.

All this did was give Jane's head better access to his, and in that moment, that closeness was the only weapon Jane had. With a fierce growl, she rammed her head against Mason's, sending him stumbling back from the surprise. Jane scrambled to her feet before he could get up, and she kicked him hard in the groin while he was still in shock.

Hoyt glanced over to see what was going on, and got up quickly when he saw that Jane had somehow freed herself and somewhat incapacitated his accomplice. He ran over to subdue her, but Jane threw herself at him and they fell to the ground. They wrestled there for several long and painful moments, loudly and violently until Jane finally got the upper hand, wresting the scalpel away from him and holding it over his heart, straddling him.

The panic in his voice was the only thing telling Jane she might at last have an edge. "Now Jane, we can—"

"We can nothin', Hoyt!" she shouted. "I was an idiot for ever lettin' you outta my sight, but you know what, _you _were an idiot not listenin' to me when I said to let Maura go! And you're gonna wish you had, because I'm gonna kill you right now, Hoyt. And _don't tell me _I'm like you! I ain't nothin' like ya! You ain't right in the head! This ain't just for my mother and my father no more, Hoyt; it's for every man and woman you ever laid a hand on. But more than that, it's for every woman like Maura Isles who coulda been at your mercy, who coulda been violated or killed by you if you went on livin'. You ain't ever gonna get the chance, understand? And ya know why? You like stories, Hoyt, go on—ask me why."

"Why, Janie?" he croaked.

"Because _I _win!"

And with that, Jane delivered on her promise and sank the scalpel into Hoyt, twisting it to make sure she got him completely. If she'd been thinking a little more clearly, she might have told Maura to look away, but it was a message Maura wouldn't have needed to hear anyway: she had turned away of her own volition. A couple of feet away, she could see a Colt pistol lying on the ground, and something in her gut told her to get it. She crawled limply towards it on her stomach, finally grabbing hold of it once Jane delivered the death blow to Hoyt. Maura turned and sat up the best she could in time to see Mason had recovered and was drawing his own weapon.

"Jane, watch out—!"

Jane rolled off of Hoyt and twisted around to see Mason aiming at her, but before she could even begin to think of how she might defend herself, a gunshot went off and it wasn't his. Mason howled in pain and dropped his gun, grabbing his arm. Jane looked over at Maura to make sure she was all right, only to realize Maura had been the one to pull the trigger. She looked as shocked as Jane felt, and was so startled by what she had done that the pistol fell out of her trembling hands.

"Lucky shot," Mason growled, stooping to pick up his gun. "But—"

Two more shots went off suddenly, and Jane rolled out of the way once more to avoid being hit by Mason's dead body falling to the ground. She struggled anxiously to sit up, and saw Frost and Korsak had just arrived on the scene, pistols drawn.

"Anyone else out here?" Frost barked.

"It's just us," Jane said hoarsely.

Korsak holstered his pistol and rushed over to Jane's side. "Jane, did you—"

"Maura, get Maura. Is she all right?"

Korsak glanced over to see Frost helping Maura to remain sitting upright, rubbing her back. "Frost's got her, she's okay. Jane—are _you _okay?"

Suddenly Jane couldn't find the energy to speak anymore. She tried her best to nod, telling herself and Korsak that it was over, it was all over. Hoyt was gone. The nightmare was gone. And it had nearly cost Maura's life. Korsak pulled Jane into a strong embrace, and as soon as he did, she let out a long, miserable wail. He did his best to whisper comforting things to her as she cried onto his shoulder, feeling like she weighed a ton.

"Hold on, doc," Frost whispered as Maura tried to move, tried to get over to Jane. "Let her cry. She needs it."

"Frost, how did you find us?"

"Followed Lola. I think she knew she was being trailed, 'cause she tried to lose me a couple times before going back to Green Forge. Korsak was already there to check in on Hoyt, but he left the jail to get something and when he went back, Hoyt and one of the deputies was gone. We didn't know what to do until it got real late, and Lola went out again, and we followed her. I think she was aimin' to meet up with Hoyt."

"Where is she now?"

Frost bit the inside of his cheek and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab away the blood on Maura's neck. "She ain't gonna hurt you or Jane ever again."

Maura was sure Frost was being oblique on purpose, but didn't question him about it any further. "And where are we?"

"Woods in Wohaw Springs. Don't worry, we're gonna get you home."

"But what about…I mean…" She nodded at the two dead men. "Hoyt and Mason…"

Standing up, Frost said, "Sheriff? Maura's got a question for you."

Korsak came over and Maura repeated the question of what was going to happen, as two men had been killed that night. "I understand they were killed in self-defense," Korsak said. "Is that right?" When Maura nodded, he continued, "That ain't against the law, Dr. Isles. Hoyt had his chance at a fair shot and decided to make a crap game out of it. He lost. You two are citizens of my town, and you don't have to worry, all right?"

Once Maura looked slightly assured, Korsak went to search Mason's body for the keys that would unlock Jane and Maura's handcuffs and Frost walked over to Jane. "Hey, partner," he muttered, sitting down next to her.

"He's dead," Jane whispered. "Frost, he's dead."

Giving Hoyt's head a small kick, Frost said, "Yup. I think so."

"I killed him. I killed him right in front of Maura."

"Jane, you did what you had to."

"It's my fault she was here. My own stupid fault. She shouldn't have ever had to face this, be a part of this."

"How could you know what was going through Hoyt's mind?"

"I don't care. Maura ain't ever had to be exposed to anything like this, and I brought her into it. She coulda been raped, Frost. She coulda been killed."

"But she wasn't," he said heavily. "Jane. This is all we've been trying to do for over ten years. You gave Hoyt a chance, which was a hell of a lot more than he ever gave us or anybody else. You did what you had to. It's over. He ain't comin' back. You and Dr. Isles are safe."

Jane nodded to herself as she watched Korsak unlock the cuffs on Maura's hands. "Yeah. We are. I'm gonna make sure she stays that way." A cloud shifted above them, freeing the moon to shine fully down on the canopy of trees surrounding them. Jane bowed her head and whispered, "That's why I gotta leave, Frost. I ain't ever lettin' Maura get in danger on my account again. Once I get cleaned up… I'm leavin' and she ain't ever gonna see me again."


	42. Consequences

**A/N: **This was another really hard one to write, guys. I hope I hit the right notes.

* * *

><p>It was just past six in the morning when Jane, Frost, Korsak, and Maura made it back to Hollow Creek. Frankly all Maura wanted to do was go back to the boarding house with Jane and lie in bed with her for the rest of her life, because she was still scared as hell and could think of nothing else that would make her feel safer.<p>

But the moment they arrived back in town, Korsak took them straight to Dr. Byron to get their wounds taken care of, not caring that they had to rouse the man out of his sleep. Naturally Byron wanted to know what exactly had brought his assistant and the town's most reckless woman to his office with matching cuts, but Maura quietly insisted she'd rather not say and Byron didn't push the matter.

Once she and Maura were properly patched up, Jane told Korsak she and Frost needed some time on their own. She assured him they wouldn't go far, and sparing one last glance for Maura, turned with Frost to walk past the corral. The only reason Maura didn't protest was because she understood what a vast shift Frost and Jane's lives were about to take, as they had just accomplished the years-long goal that had brought and kept them together. It was only natural that they should want a little while to be alone…

Maura's internal justification of this act was interrupted when Korsak called after Jane and Frost, "You ain't thinking of up and leaving, are ya, Calamity Jane?"

She turned and waved. "I told ya I ain't goin' far. I'll be back."

"Yeah, we'll be back," Frost said, gripping Jane's shoulder tightly. This was a promise he was going to make her keep. "Don't worry."

The only reason Jane hadn't said anything specifically to Maura was because she worried that if she tried to say or do anything personal, she wouldn't be able to leave.

"All right, Doc," Korsak said, leading Maura to the nice end of town. "You and I have got an errand to run anyway."

"We do?" Maura asked, feeling a bit dazed.

Grimacing, Korsak pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I found this bank note on Hoyt's person before we left. And considering his character, I'm going to assume he already told you about it."

"Yes, he did," Maura said, handing the note back to Korsak.

"Explain it to me, Dr. Isles."

Maura took a deep breath to steady herself, and released it as a heavy sigh. "He found Garrett and wheedled him into venting his frustration about Jane. Garrett's been very sensitive about her lately, about how close she and I have become. I don't mean to bore you, Sheriff, but I think that when I got out here, Garrett just believed our relationship would be the way it was in Boston. There were other ladies I associated with just for the sake of being social, but nobody I really considered close to me. He was all I really had, aside from my father. So …I think he's used to that, used to me really needing him. I do still think fondly of Boston, Sheriff, but you have a _wonderful_ town out here."

"Thank you, Dr. Isles. I take that as a mighty big compliment coming from a lady like yourself."

"You should be proud of the community you've helped to cultivate. I really feel as if I can belong here. As if I could have friends here, be happy here. And Jane is the one who made me realize it. I've never had a friend like her before, Sheriff, and for some reason Garrett felt threatened by that. Hoyt fed him some disgusting story, saying he'd like to take Jane away with him on some sort of romantic jaunt, and Garrett offered him money as further incentive to leave and take Jane with him."

They had reached Garrett's street, but Korsak stopped walking and turned to look at Maura. "And how does that make you feel, Dr. Isles?"

"What do you mean, Sheriff?"

"He helped fund an insane man who wanted to kill your best friend and could very easily have succeeded not only in that, but in causing serious harm to you, also."

"I have no reason to believe Garrett knew of Hoyt's true intentions."

"Let me get right to it, doc: I have your word, which is based on your understanding of Fairfield's character and based on _Hoyt's_ word. In a moment, I'll have Fairfield's version of the story. This bank note is pretty damning. Fairfield can fight me, or he can listen to you. Personally I don't care to have a man in this town who'd pay off a killer to kidnap one of our residents, but as you say, there's a chance he didn't know of Hoyt's intent. If you—"

Maura surprised herself by cutting in and saying, "I don't want him here."

Korsak raised his eyebrows and waited for her to go on. "You…"

"I don't want him here," Maura repeated slowly, the full realization finally striking her. And yet, she felt strangely calm. While the truthfulness of it was surprising, it didn't frighten her. She didn't need Garrett like she had before, and while before she would have been happy to remain friends with him—even marry him—she could not foresee entertaining that notion when Garrett had had a hand in last night's terrifying events.

"In that case, Dr. Isles, we'd best do this together," Korsak said, continuing to walk down Garrett's street. "Just follow my lead."

It was seven o'clock and Garrett was already awake, but entirely unprepared for the harsh knock on this front door that turned out to be the Sheriff and his fiancé.

"Maura! Sheriff, what's…? Maura, what happened to your neck?"

"Mind if we come inside, Mr. Fairfield?" Korsak asked, stepping past Garrett and walking into the house. He slammed the door shut once Maura had followed him in, and excluding the preliminary salutations, Korsak handed Garrett the banknote he had found on Hoyt. The look passing over Garrett's face was an unmistakable combination of recognition and sudden, confused mortification. "Would you care to explain that, son?"

Garrett gaped wordlessly at Korsak then looked back at Maura. "What's this got to do with—?"

"It's got everything to do with this," Maura said calmly, pointing to the bandage on her neck. "Garrett, I know you're not an unintelligent man. But would you tell me what exactly you were you thinking when you paid a complete stranger an incredibly large sum to kidnap Jane?"

"_Kidnap? _No! He was—I mean, they knew each other, he knew her family, he—"

"You know how he knew her family?" Korsak interrupted sharply. "Charles Hoyt murdered Jane's mother when Jane was four, and her father when she was fourteen. He tried killing her then, too, but he couldn't finish her off. Last night he got the chance to try it again and he came too damn close for my comfort."

Looking wildly alarmed, Garrett sputtered, "He—is she—?"

"She'll live," Korsak growled. "And fortunately, Dr. Isles will, too. Hoyt took them both."

"He took _you?_" Garrett cried, grabbing Maura's arms in concern, as if touching her would more solidly establish that she was present, that she was mostly physically unharmed. "Are you hurt, other than your neck? What'd he do to your neck?"

"We'll ask the questions, Fairfield, if you don't mind," Korsak said. "I want to know exactly what your intention was in giving Charles Hoyt those seventy-five dollars."

Garrett looked at Maura, hoping she might jump in and tell the Sheriff to back down, that it was all just a misunderstanding. But she did and said nothing aside from stare back at Garrett with dead eyes. With a frustrated sigh, Garrett crumpled the banknote in his fist and said, "If Jane's still here, she could back me up on this—I'd just left Angela's tavern. We had a fight. An argument."

"What about?" Korsak asked.

"About—about… something of mine that she'd—"

Maura cut in, her voice cold when she said, "Garrett, if you are referring to me, please say so."

"Jane fired her weapon at my back!" Garrett said hotly.

Korsak merely snorted. "This is Arizona, son. You're gonna have to do better than that."

"So out here you do nothing to discourage the patrons of public establishments from shooting guns at each other?" Garrett asked in snide disbelief. "Some fine Sheriff _you_ are."

"Listen, fancy man, I don't need your input on how I do my job," Korsak said. "You knew the risks when you moved out here. I do my best to curb bad behavior, but I can't just stop people from carrying their guns around! It's just what we do out here. If you can't take the heat, maybe you should go on back to Boston."

"You shouldn't let women go around d—"

"Jane was only trying to scare you," Maura said softly. "If she'd wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be conscious right now."

Korsak gave Maura's back an affirmative pat. "All right, Mr. Fairfield, you had an argument with one of our town's most beloved residents. Then what happened? How'd you meet Hoyt?"

"He…he was on the porch, near my carriage. He'd heard our argument and said he and Jane had a past together. He wanted to… I mean, he said he traveled a lot and had come back to ask Jane if she'd come with him. And then he happened to mention he wasn't a man of very many means, so I offered to lend him some money."

"You gave him money to take Jane away."

"I gave him money to _leave _with her. I did not know he planned on hurting her beyond a slap on the wrist for her behavior. And Sheriff, I hope you don't think I would ever purposefully do anything that would bring my fiancé in the realm of harm."

Studying him long and hard, Korsak finally said, "No, Fairfield. I don't think you would. I just think you did something mighty stupid. Now the only question is what price you're going to pay for that stupidity." Korsak put his hands in his pockets and straightened up, puffing out his chest enough so that his badge stuck out. He had to admit it was a nice feeling to have the tall, typically-composed Garrett Fairfield looking worried. "I know your type, Fairfield, and I don't begrudge you. We can always use fellas who're good with money. You thought moving out here would make you a big fish in a small pond. Well let me tell you something, Fairfield—this is a _hell_ of small pond. If word gets out that you had a hand in the kidnapping and near-murder of Jane Johnson, I can't guarantee there won't be retribution of some kind. Do we have an understanding?"

Without waiting for a response, Korsak turned on his heel and exited the house, leaving Garrett and Maura alone. (He would quickly be accosted by Melody, who had woken up to find her night guard Grant had been knocked unconscious and left on the porch of the boarding house. They got Dr. Byron and drove quickly back into town.)

Once Korsak had slammed the door shut, Garrett took a step over to Maura and drew her into an embrace. She did not return it, choosing instead to stand there and stare at a spot over Garrett's shoulder, waiting for him to release her. When he pulled back, he was nervous to see the dark, un-amused look on her face.

He'd never quite seen her like this. Despite the teasing and the neglect she had endured all her life, Maura's predominant expression had always been one of light happiness. Just one smile from her could change a bad day into a good one. When she was sad it was obvious, and she allowed herself easily to be comforted. This countenance was entirely different. She did not necessarily look angry as much as she did quietly upset. Maura had always been smart, but there was a different sense of intelligence in her face now, as if she had been forced to learn all of life's most difficult lessons in less than an hour.

"Maura," Garrett whispered, praying she'd tell him it was going to be all right, that she was fine. "Tell me what happened."

She'd known it was an inevitable request, and so felt at least a little prepared. "What happened, Garrett? You let your jealousy and your pride come ahead of that well-developed and well-exercised brain of yours. You paid a man you had never met nearly a hundred dollars to take away the best friend I have ever had." She shook her head and maintained her quiet tone when she asked, "What is _wrong _with you? You've always done the most scrutinizing background checks on every person you encounter with a business proposition—and that's essentially what this was, wasn't it?"

"Maura, I was thinking of us—please understand—"

"Understand _this!_" Maura said, gesturing again to her neck. "That man was certifiably insane! He broke into the boarding house and he knocked us both out, me and Jane—who was with me, by the way, after I'm guessing you tore into her! Garrett, I thought you loved me! Why would you try to get rid of a person who means so much to me, who I love _so_ much?"

Sufficiently cowed, Garrett said, "Maura, I really am happy that you have made such a close friend out here. I just didn't think she was a good influence on you."

"Then you weren't thinking of us," Maura said severely. "You were thinking of yourself. You didn't respect me enough to let me make my own decisions about who I spent time with."

"Because look what happened when you did!" Garrett fought back. "You were nearly killed twice in one day!"

Whether or not this was a fair point, Maura was determined to fight it. "By _choice_, Garrett! Yesterday afternoon I saw Jane being threatened by someone with a pistol, and she was unarmed, so I stepped in to help. And then last night, she was depressed and upset because I had gotten hurt on her account, and I asked her to stay the night with me so she would know that I didn't hold her at fault! That's when Hoyt came in and kidnapped us! He took us all the way to Wohaw Springs, and when I woke up, I had chains around my wrists!" She held up her arms to show him the red marks, but when he tried tenderly to reach out to her, Maura pulled back. "He was going to kill her right in front of me, Garrett, and he almost succeeded. But then he chose to go for me instead."

"Maura, I—"

"Don't interrupt, Garrett! You wanted to know what happened, so I'm telling you! Hoyt gave me this cut on my neck, just to scare her. All it did was make her so mad she took on him _and _his accomplice to save my life! She killed him for my sake."

This was getting unbelievable. "They're all barbarians," Garret muttered.

Maura stepped close again and slapped him fiercely across the face. Nothing she could've said or done would have shocked him more, especially when she didn't have the decency to apologize or give him a moment to collect himself before she plowed on: "Don't you dare ever use that word again! I saw Jane catch this man when we were in Green Forge—and yes, he's the one who shot Frost there the other night. She had the chance to kill him, he was at her mercy, and after what he'd done to her family and countless others, I wouldn't have blamed her. But she did what she thought was right, and handed him over to 'the proper authorities,' as you would call it. And then he escaped and came here to finish the job of killing her, and you gave him a nice sum to clear out and do just that!"

"I did not tell him to kill or hurt anyone!" Garrett shouted. Yes, he had clearly made a mistake in trusting Hoyt, but he didn't like the way Korsak and Maura kept making it sound, as if he had wanted Hoyt to commit murder.

"Well he did! And you know, Garrett, I think Jane would have let him kill her, I really do. I think she felt she deserved it, but then he came after me—" A small sob interrupted her suddenly, and she held up one hand to keep Garrett from trying to comfort her (which, despite the slap, he seemed fully prepared to do). "He came to hurt me, and Jane saved my life. Jane Rizzoli is ten times the man you are."

The surname threw him, as did the enormity of this declaration. His eyes remained widened slightly but he kept his mouth shut, having learned his lesson already not to jump in if he felt there was more that Maura wanted to say.

And indeed, there was yet another explanation. "You didn't even try talking to her in a civilized manner," Maura said, her voice back at a normal register. "You couldn't bring yourself to approach her. Did she intimidate you, or did you just not want to converse with her? Jane _fought _her demons, Garrett. She met them bravely and head-on because it was the right thing to do. She might've listened to you and respected your wishes if you hadn't gotten into a brawl with her in a public place—for something that was _my_ own fault, not hers. You gave money to a stranger to get rid of her, to scrape the insect off the bottom of your shoe. I mean so much to you, but you couldn't take care of this issue yourself? Your pride couldn't take the fact that maybe I enjoy spending time with someone besides just you? Jane had to kill that man to protect my life, and she did it without hesitation."

Such a long silence followed that Garrett finally felt it would be all right for him to speak again. "Maura, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want you to leave." She took the ring off her finger and held it out to him, but he did not take it. "Leave, Garrett. Don't come back."

"Maura. I understand you must have been scared. You must be beyond upset with me, and you are completely justified in that. I made a mistake."

"A deadly one."

"I made a terrible mistake. But don't you think I deserve another chance? Forgiveness? I'm sure after some time has passed…"

"No," Maura said quietly. "No. I think in time I will come to forgive you, as you claim you had no knowledge of Hoyt's true objective, but no, I do not think you deserve another chance. Not with me. You're a grown man. You acted petulantly, crudely, vengefully. All of that is beneath you. And besides, that, I... I've outgrown you." The look of absolute hurt on his face almost made Maura feel sorry. In a slightly softened voice, she added, "You've been a good friend, Garrett. I know you would have made a fine provider and dependable father. I don't know how I'd have fared in Boston without you. But we're not in Boston anymore. You've changed. Your job and your image have taken priority over us, and I've been feeling lately like you don't view me as a friend, but as an accessory."

Garrett took her hands, and this time, Maura did not pull away. "Maura, I love you," he said reverently. "Maybe I haven't been good at showing it lately, but I love you."

Maura surveyed him for a long time, acknowledging his sincerity and trying to gauge her own feelings. He was looking desperately, pleadingly back at her, and nearly half a minute passed before she had the gumption to speak up again. She gave his hands a squeeze before pulling them out of his grip, leaving her engagement ring in the palm of his hand.

"You were my first love, Garrett. But you have changed, and not for the better. The Garrett Fairfield I grew up with fought for what he believed in, for what he wanted. He conducted himself in an honorable way, and treated women with respect, no matter where they came from or what other people thought of them. That's the man I could have married. Not the one you've become."

"Maura—Maura, _please_. I can change back, just give me a chance!"

But she was already at the door, preparing to leave. "I did. You've had months out here. Witnessing the near-murder of my friend was just too much for me."

"So you're just ending this? I don't have a say? What will you do out here, Maura, marry _Jane?_"

"What I do is no concern of yours anymore, Mr. Fairfield. You heard the Sheriff. Once what you did gets around, I don't think very many people out here will be clamoring for your business. If you're smart, you'll pack up shop and go somewhere else. Back to Boston, perhaps. Until they are prepared to receive you, you might go back to your father's friend in Flagstaff. I'm sure he'd be only too happy to put you up. Do what you have to in order to be gone by the end of the week."

And with that, she left the house and did not turn back.

It was perhaps unsurprising that Maura's attempts to fall asleep that night were in vain. The primary fear was that if she closed her eyes and drifted off, she might wake up in handcuffs again, with someone leering over her. But in addition to that, there was a burning sensation in her gut that made her feel guilty and afraid about her actions regarding Garrett. Had she been too rough, too emotional? They had been engaged for years, and she had just broken it off so abruptly, so sharply. Had it been a rash decision, or justified? She felt too close to the incident and the situation to be able to judge it fairly, and she wished Jane were around to bounce the idea off of…

But where _was_ Jane? Maura lay on top of her covers, curled up except for one arm that was extended towards the other side of the bed, the space Jane had occupied so recently. That told her everything she needed to know. She felt sorry about Garrett, regretful that things had had to end the way they did; but ultimately the thought of him leaving did not wrack her with sorrow. It was almost startling how easily she could picture Hollow Creek, her life, her future, without him.

Jane was a different story. It felt as though Maura's insides were cringing at the thought of being unable to see that woman again, the woman she felt had changed for the better for her, Maura's, sake. She knew she wouldn't sleep well, if at all, until Jane came back and they had a chance to talk.

Unfortunately, this meant that Maura did not sleep well for the next six days.

It took Garrett five days to get out of town. When Angela asked Korsak if he knew where Jane was and whether she'd taken off again, the Sheriff implied that Garrett Fairfield might have had something to do with her leaving. This assertion immediately lost Garrett the respect of Frankie and Tommy (newly released from jail), and word quickly dissipated through the town. As Korsak had assumed, no two stories of what Garrett had done were exactly the same, but by and large, the townspeople stuck together and wanted him out. Nothing violent or too destructive happened, unless you counted an instance where Tommy took Jo for a walk and let her relieve herself on the front porch of Garrett's establishment.

Maura refused to see him, which she knew was probably worse than he deserved, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't want to hear him beg or apologize. She just wanted him gone. So, the morning he was set to leave for a brief stay in Flagstaff, Garrett left the address of his father's friend with Melody and asked her to give it to Maura just in case she wanted to contact him. At least that way, he was able to leave Hollow Creek with a sliver of hope that he might be forgiven and re-accepted by a woman he was beginning to believe he really was not worthy of.

All of this was lost on Jane, who had lived the last several days in the woods where Hoyt had tried to kill her as a young girl. She couldn't quite explain to herself why she wanted to go there, but Frost was game and kept her mostly company. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, in case she got any wild ideas and took off like she'd said she would.

But after nearly a week of avoiding the subject, Frost couldn't take it anymore. He and Jane were sitting by the river in the rain, looking at nothing and saying nothing, until out of the blue he asked, "Why d'you want to leave?" She didn't answer him, and may have been pretending not to hear him. In a louder voice, he said, "When we got Hoyt arrested, you said you were gonna stick around these parts. How come that ain't the case now?"

Jane's response was terse: "Because he could've killed her, Frost. He could've violated her." Frost needed no clarification to know who they were talking about. "I'm a menace. Maura shouldn't be around someone like me. She could get hurt. I don't want to talk about this with you. I gotta leave."

"No, you don't."

"Yes I do! I told ya I don't want to talk about this with you, Frost, so drop it. We're stickin' to the plan: I'm gonna help you find Anna, and once we do, you two come back here without me. I'll go start someplace else."

"Just like that? You ain't gonna tell Angela or your brothers? Don't you think they deserve to have you around after everything that's happened? You've still got family left, Jane. It ain't right to disrespect them like that. And what about Maura?"

"What about her?" Jane snapped.

Frost didn't back down. "Don't you think she'd like to talk to you? She got thrown in with Hoyt, and hardly knows a thing about him. I can't believe you'd just walk out on her after everything you two have been through together."

"It's _for _her that I'm walkin' out, Frost!"

"Bull! If you wanna do something for her, you go talk to her! I said you could come with me to find Anna, but I ain't leavin' until you've seen Maura and told her your plan!" When it looked as if Jane was going to protest this, Frost barked, "_Why not? _What is keeping you back?"

The fact that she knew she couldn't answer this question in a satisfactory way was what had gotten Jane to ride back into town. It _would _be cold to just up and leave Hollow Creek without saying goodbye to Maura, without apologizing for the hell Jane had put her through. The main reason Jane hadn't gone earlier was because she was resolved never to return to the Creek once she was gone, and anticipated two things: if she saw Maura again, it would be difficult if not impossible to leave her. But the second possibility was the more upsetting, which was that Maura might hate Jane for what happened and never want to see her again. In a way, leaving would be easier if Jane could know that Maura didn't despise her.

But Frost had insisted and made his good points as he always did (albeit a bit more forcefully than usual), and so here Jane was, outside the boarding house.

She was dripping wet from the rain, which was why she thought Melody was looking at her so oddly when she walked inside. But when she headed for the stairs, Melody said, "She isn't here, Jane."

Jane's heart seemed to lodge itself in her throat. "What?"

"Maura's not here. She's at Mr. Fairfield's house."

"Oh. …oh, okay. Uh, thanks."

Feeling a little dazed, Jane jumped back on her horse and rode off to the far part of town. She was glad it was raining; it meant hardly anybody was walking around, and nobody was stopping to ask her where she'd been. Besides that, the rain felt good, it felt cool; it relaxed Jane just the slightest bit as she rode down the street towards a situation she didn't think would be very pleasant. Garrett's street was somehow even emptier than the main road: not a soul was outside, and every window's drapes were closed to the depressing sight of the downpour. She stopped outside Garrett's house, and hesitated. Frost would never know if she didn't go in… she could just ride around for a while and go back, and he'd never be the wiser…

But she was already here, and the prospect of seeing Maura was too tempting to pass up.

Jane dismounted and ran up to the front door, knocking hard. When there was no response, she banged harder, but still was greeted by nothing. Disappointment layered itself thickly over her as she took a step back, almost giving up. But just as she was about to untie her horse's reins from the fence in the yard, something told her to check the back. Maura's hand-knit socks were sopping wet, soaked through Jane's boots as she sloshed across the drenched lawn to the backyard.

Maura was sitting on a chair on the covered porch, staring at the rain and the dark clouds. Her hair was starting to frizz just slightly, but other than that, she looked utterly unaffected by the weather: her light green dress and dark jacket were perfectly dry, as were the white stockings on her legs. The same could not be said for Jane, who Maura had finally noticed was standing to the side of the porch.

Her hat was slung over her back, useless at protecting her face from the rain. She had pulled back her hair to keep it out of her eyes, but was still squinting up at Maura through the curtains of water separating them. Jane's fringed, buck-skin vest looked heavy on her slender frame, the blue shirt beneath it clinging to her skin. Dark denim was tucked into snakeskin boots, which were hard to get good footing on in the wet grass, despite their sturdiness.

"Come onto the porch, please," Maura said. She didn't feel like having this conversation at a distance where they'd have to shout over the rain.

With this permission, Jane didn't bother to try wringing out her clothes or her hair as she stepped up onto the porch. Maura indicated a nearby chair, and Jane warily sat. "Where's Mr. Fairfield?" she finally asked.

"Gone," Maura said simply.

"Gone where?"

Maura shrugged. "Gone."

"When's he coming back?"

"He's not."

Jane stared at her, waiting for more. "I don't…I don't understand."

With a soft laugh that was clearly not meant to indicate amusement, Maura said, "I don't think I do, either. But he's gone, and this house belongs to him. I just thought I'd try staying in it for a while. It's a bit nicer than the boarding house, and I have the space to myself."

"He left, huh?" Jane asked, rubbing her nose. There were obviously details she was missing, but she frankly didn't care about them at the moment. "Well, that'll make two of us, soon."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving, Maura, and I ain't coming back. I'm leavin' the Creek."

"Like hell you are!" Maura suddenly shouted. Jane looked utterly abashed at this abrupt outburst, and Maura continued, "Where have you _been_, Jane? Don't you realize what happened to us? With Hoyt?"

"Of course I do! That's why I gotta get out, Maura, to make sure nothin' like that ever happens to you again!"

"You should have been _here_, Jane, you should've been with me! I've had nobody to talk to about it, nobody who would understand what I went through—the disgust, the terror, the self-doubting, all of it! I haven't been able to sleep properly since it happened, and I've had no way of dealing with it because you were the only one who could help me, and you just—you just _abandoned_ me!"

This was a far cry from where Jane had expected this conversation to go. "Maura—Maura, I just thought after what happened, you'd see how crazy this is! Mr. Fairfield was right, I ain't got no place bein' friends with—"

"Don't tell me he was right! Do not give in to what he said to you!"

"Maura, listen to yourself! You almost got _killed _because of me!"

"Jane, I owe my life to you!"

"I shouldn't have had to save it, damn it! If I'd just stayed where I'd belonged and let you be, you'd never have been in danger—you wouldn't have had the innocence and the virtue wrung out of ya like you did—"

"Jane, I might have lost that innocence, but I didn't lose _hope! _Not until you left me sitting here alone for almost a week, right after it happened! And I didn't lose that entirely; I've still got it, I'll still have hope if you'll just stay!"

Jane threw her hands up in the air and stood in frustration. "And do what, Maura? Settle down and have a nice little family with a man who asks me to sit around all day, cooling my heels? I don't belong to no man, Maura, and I never will. It just ain't somethin' I can do."

Maura got to her feet as well, grabbing Jane's elbow and forcing her around to face her. "Well how do you think _I_ feel? I just sent away a man I've known my whole life, who I was engaged to marry, and now he's gone! We'll get through this, Jane, I know we will—and besides, Hoyt is dead! He's gone, and he can never hurt you again. Jake Wyatt can die too, Jane, and you won't have to run anymore. I know you like being home. I know you're happy here. You don't have to run away, not for my sake!"

Tears were evident in Maura's voice as well as on her face, and she was starting to detect them in Jane's eyes as well. "Maura, I—I wish I could take care of ya, I wish I could just put my arms around ya and protect you from all the horrors and the evils in this world, but I can't. All I do is bring 'em in closer. I wish that I could be enough for ya, and I know you'd say otherwise, but I—I just ain't good enough for you!"

Crying heavily, Maura refused to let go when Jane tried to pull away. "Don't leave me, Jane, I _do _need you!"

"I ain't brought ya nothin' but trouble!" Jane insisted, finally freeing herself from Maura's grip and tramping back down to the yard. "I gotta move on, Maura, I gotta leave, so you can be safe and get on with your own life!"

"What life?" Maura sobbed. "Everything I thought my future would be, every plan I had, is gone! Dashed! You are the only real friend I have—if you go, I lose _every_thing I have left!"

"That ain't true!" Jane cried. "You've got your work with Dr. Byron and you got this whole town!"

"That doesn't mean anything if I can't have somebody to share it with, Jane!"

"You've got Angela and the boys, they love you like family—"

"But Jane, I love _you!_"

These words cut through Jane's determination like a knife. Her decision to leave had clouded her mind like a thick, poisonous fog, but Maura's voice was slicing through the haze, a lantern in the night. She stared up at the doctor, hesitant to believe that all this emotion was on her behalf. It made Jane dizzy to hear these words, words she realized and accepted she had been waiting months to hear from Maura's lips.

Fixing her eyes determinedly on Maura's, she asked, "What'd you say?"

Maura looked as though she too were startled by what she had just said, but she plowed bravely on. In trembling voice, she said, "It's true, I—I am _heartsick _when you're away, and I _ache _for you constantly! You befriended me, you soothe me, you respect me, and I can't begin to express what that all means to me!" As she rambled, Jane slowly walked up the porch steps, shortening the distance between them. Maura unconsciously backed up, still talking: "I've never known happiness like I have since you came into my life, and I c—I _cannot _imagine a future without you that is anything but bleak and empty!" She had hit the outer wall of the house, and at the unexpected contact, another small sob escaped her. "_Please_, Jane. Please don't leave. Don't leave me."

Jane was less than a foot away, teeth clenched and breathing ragged. Her mind was buzzing with Maura's words, but the only ones sticking out were the first, the glorious first. "Say it again," she whispered, trusting that her request would be clear.

And miraculously, Maura intuitively understood and needed no clarification: "I love you, Jane, I love you in every way—"

Jane put her hands on either side of Maura's face, pulling her close and cutting her off with an ardent kiss.

The moment Jane's mouth crushed against her own, the world became silent. Maura's eyes had closed on instinct, leaving her with only two senses working overtime: the taste and touch of Jane's lips.

But then Jane pulled away to draw breath, and with the sound of her inhale came an overwhelming barrage of sensations: blood was pounding mercilessly in Maura's ears, her heart tearing at an almost dangerous pace. She also took the moment to breathe, and in addition to the rain, she could smell that distinct musky mixture of smoke and wild grass that was Jane's scent. Their faces were a couple of inches apart at best, and Maura lifted her gaze from Jane's lips up to her dark eyes—eyes which were themselves searching Maura's face for any signs that she should not continue.

The message she got was quite the opposite, for it was Maura who initiated the second kiss. One hand cupped the back of Jane's neck while the other occupied itself in grabbing one of the belt loops of Jane's pants, bringing her close as Jane put her arms around Maura's shoulders, kissing her back with fervor.

"Maura, I love you," Jane whispered between kisses that were becoming feather-light. Getting the words out in the open was the most wonderfully freeing feeling Jane had ever encountered. "I love you, I love you—"

"Please stay with me," Maura said urgently, her tears coming back with a vengeance.

Jane pulled back enough to look her in the eye. She reached for the doorknob that was just behind Maura, pushing the door open so they could step inside. Maura's sincerity in her words and her actions were more than enough to drive all thoughts of leaving from Jane's mind. Though her voice was shaky, Jane managed to sound calm and sure of herself when she finally responded, "Just try and get rid of me."


	43. Once I Had a Secret Love

**A/N**: You guys are awesome. Over 100 reviews on that last chapter. Especially considering how nervous I was that that kiss would be disappointing or not live up to expectations, I can't tell you how much that support meant to me. Here's hoping this lives up to it.

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><p>The moment they were both inside the house, Jane closed the door and held Maura against it, hands gripping the smaller woman's arms as she leaned back in. Jane had fully intended to start kissing her again, but she took a few moments to simply close her eyes and rest her forehead against Maura's. Her heart was pounding and it sent a strange reverberating ache throughout her entire body, and Jane wanted to wait for it to pass before she tried to go for another kiss. Besides, as indescribably wonderful as it had felt to finally taste Maura's lips, this was what Jane had wanted just as much: the freedom to hold her this familiarly without fear of retribution.<p>

Though Maura thoroughly enjoyed that freedom was well, she didn't feel quite as patient. Caressing Jane's jaw with one hand, she leaned up slightly before having her own brief moment of appreciation. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that they had been in nearly this exact position twice before: first when Maura had volunteered to dress as a showgirl and Jane had tried talking her out of it, and second when Lola had taken a shot at her and ridden off. Instead of chasing the woman down, Jane had stayed close by, she had looked at Maura as if she were on the precipice of losing the most important being in her life.

Maura had felt Jane's breath on her mouth then, had wished more for a kiss from Jane than for a speedy recovery. She could feel it again, feel Jane exhaling into her slightly parted lips, and with a jolt, Maura remembered she no longer had to remain silent about what she so desperately desired. This realization finally brought a smile back to her face, and it boosted her spirits enormously to see Jane reflect it. She gently trailed her index finger over the cleft in Jane's chin before proceeding under her jaw and down her neck, finally ending by lifting both hands up into Jane's soaking wet hair and pulling her into another kiss.

The soft whimper these actions elicited was by far the sweetest and most vulnerable sound Maura had ever heard come from Jane. Normally it would've made Jane incredibly self-conscious to have let the noise come out at all, but in this instance she couldn't really care less. How could her pride stand a chance against this peerless ecstasy?

It truly was unbelievable how wonderful this felt. Jane had always been so sure that the problem was with her, that there was something fundamentally wrong with her which kept her from enjoying any kiss. But now she finally understood it: she had never been so attracted to or fully enamored with someone as deeply as she was Maura Isles. It actually meant something to Jane that this person—this intelligent, kind-hearted, beautiful person—wanted to kiss her back, wanted to make her feel loved. Neither of them were meeting half-way; they both wanted and needed this, they were both letting their passion escalate.

Pressed flat against the door, Maura found herself gasping heavily for breath as Jane practically assaulted her neck with her mouth, hands grasping at the doctor's waist. Maura unconsciously pulled Jane's hair out of its restrictive tie and buried her fists in the freed, damp curls, forcefully pushing Jane's mouth harder against her neck. While this may have typically been an opportunity for Jane to crack a joke about Maura's desperation, she was far too aroused and still far too over-the-moon to be able to concentrate on anything besides the feel of Maura Isles beneath her hands and her mouth.

Ultimately Jane made her way back up, recapturing Maura's lips with her own, cradling the back of Maura's head with a calloused hand, kissing her hungrily again and again. She had been completely possessed by her desire and love for this woman; she had never felt this euphoric, this other-worldly _good_ during a kiss.

Somehow she was finally able to pull back and stay back. Jane distanced herself enough only to be able to look into Maura's eyes when she spoke: "You really want me, Maura? You really love me?"

Maura could only nod weakly, rendered temporarily speechless by those kisses.

"I couldn't marry ya, couldn't make an honest woman out of ya," Jane stammered, now clasping Maura's sweaty hands tightly. "But Maura, if you'd have me, I will stay with you for the rest of my life. I will go where you go, or I will stay in the Creek if you want to live here. I will cherish you for the rest of my days; love and worship you forever, and I will do my _damndest_ to keep you safe."

Maura nodded again, trying to catch enough breath to speak. "Oh Jane, it—you're wrong."

"About what?" Jane asked, alarmed.

"Not being able to make an honest woman of me," Maura said, her hands going up beneath Jane's sopping wet vest, digging her fingernails possessively into Jane's skin through her thin, soaked shirt. There was hardly any space left between them as Maura continued: "I suppose it all depends on your definition of 'honest,' which I suspect you intended to be in the traditional, societal way. But Jane—_this _is honest. How I feel about you, how I've longed for an eternity for this to happen, _that _is honest. You've made an honest woman of me by not forcing me to keep it a secret any longer." She strengthened her hold on Jane, pressing them even more tightly together. "Please," she breathed. "Please tell me you're going to stay."

"You really want me to?" Jane asked, unable to dare deem it could be true.

"How many times are you going to make me say it?"

Jane chuckled at Maura's impatient, exasperated tone. Before going in for another kiss, she whispered, "You know I love you, Maura Isles?"

Maura ducked her head to avoid being kissed, saying, "In that case, you need to get out of these clothes."

Jane's eyes widened. "Maura…!"

It took her a moment, but then Maura realized that given the context, her words just now could have been taken a very different way than how she had intended them. "I mean—Jane, they're drenched and freezing! You'll catch a cold, and I—I think we'd both be a little more comfortable if you were dry."

"Probably true," Jane conceded. "But… I don't have any clothes here. I'd have to go home to get some." She threaded her wet fingers through Maura's hair, her voice trembling. "And I don't want to leave." Leaving could break the spell, could rip them too completely from what Jane still couldn't believe was anything more than a fantasy.

A long pause followed this statement, with the only thing breaking the silence being the rain that was falling steadily on the windows and the roof. Jane had to strain her ears when Maura whispered, "Will you stay here tonight?"

"Of course," Jane murmured back, shifting her hands to grip Maura's arms.

"Then I might have something you could wear."

"Maura, I ain't gonna put on one of your frilly nightdresses."

Chuckling at Jane's attempt to lighten the mood, Maura said, "That's not what I had in mind. I've… well, I sort of moved all my things here yesterday."

"Are you going to live here?"

"Probably, for as long as I can, anyway. The house has already been paid for, so I figured I might as well see that it wasn't bought in vain. Of course, once Garrett's father finds out what has happened, he may wish to do something about it, but …I have at least until then. Anyway, I had Adelaide make something for you, an ensemble. It includes a union suit you could wear now; it's warmer than most, and I thought you could possibly use it. I was going to save it for your birthday, but then I realized I don't know when that is."

Jane smiled and said, "It's not until April."

"What day?"

"The nineteenth."

"Oh. That's far, isn't it? Well, I think I should maybe just give it to you now."

"Early birthday present? No complaints here."

"Come with me."

"Should I at least take off my boots, or…?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't mind if you get the house wet; it's not a problem."

Maura took Jane's hand and walked around her, leading her towards the hallway that went through to the front of the house. All of her luggage was standing there by the door, one trunk open that Maura had been living out of.

"You just left these out here?" Jane asked.

"Well, they're heavy…"

"I can move 'em for ya, if you want."

"Later, I may take you up on that. For now, though…" Maura opened another trunk and pulled out a long bag, draping it over Jane's arm. "Here are the clothes from Adelaide. What do you usually sleep in?"

"Uh… in the winter, usually just some long drawers. Union suit's fine."

"Even with Frost around?" Maura asked, sounding surprised.

Jane awkwardly rubbed her neck. "Well, yeah. There weren't ever a reason not to, I mean, he and I would never …we wouldn't ever, uh… y'know. Besides, we had other things on our minds other than—anything like that."

"Of course," Maura said quickly, blushing at having even brought it up. She dove her hand into the trunk once more, pulling out a very long, very extravagant men's robe. "You can put this on, too, if that would make you more comfortable."

"What's it made of?" Jane whispered, marveling at the smoothness of the material.

"Silk, allegedly. I got it from a Chinese tailor in Mesa. It was supposed to be for Garrett, eventually, but… he left before he ever got it. It would probably be too big for you, but if you'd like it…"

Jane found herself torn between wanting to put on something that felt this smooth to her touch, but also wanting to distance herself from anything Maura had intended for her former fiancé. "I dunno, Maura. You got it for him."

Maura stood on her toes, wrapping one hand around Jane's neck and whispering into her ear: "But I want you to have it, like the cigars he forgot to take." She pulled back, cupping Jane's face in her hands, giving her a brief kiss. "I want you to have everything," she admitted in a shallow whisper, brushing her lips once more against Jane's. "Everything that was supposed to be his …I want you to have it. All of it."

"Maura, I just want you," Jane whispered back, stroking the smaller woman's cheek.

Unable to fight off a tiny smile, Maura said, "I know. That's what I meant."

"…oh." Jane allowed herself a low chuckle, which Maura softly, nervously returned. "Where should I change into this?"

"There's a washroom down this way," Maura answered, again leading Jane back down the hall and taking a left. "You can bring out those wet clothes, and we'll dry them by the fire."

"Fire? But it's raining outside."

"Yes, I know. I'm going to make a fire in the fireplace."

"You've got a fireplace in here?" Jane asked, sounding impressed. "Gosh, that's high-class." She leaned against the doorframe of the washroom, laughing reminiscently. "When we were growing up, my Pop was pretty laid-back. We only had one rule in the house: no building fires in rooms that didn't have fireplaces. Tommy was pretty disappointed to learn that meant all of 'em."

They shared a laugh at that, then finally turned their separate ways, Jane into the washroom and Maura back down to the sitting room. Fortunately she had had the presence of mind earlier that day to bring in some wood from the yard in case it got cold that night, and as such, it was dry and easy to start a fire.

Maura had always loved the rain, which was the one quirk Garrett had never been able to get on board with in Boston. While other respectable people shut themselves indoors or at least had the decency to grab an umbrella, Maura would run down the street with her hair flying, happy to be soaked to the bone. Today, she had thought a walk in the rain might lift her spirits, but she had been unable to bring herself to go farther than the back porch, and that's where Jane had found her…

She had been cold, then, and thinking how nice a fire would be, but she had lacked the energy and the willpower to go back inside. At the moment, she was really quite warm; the fire was only going so that she could dry Jane's clothes by it once she returned. Actually, by now, Maura had bypassed warm and gone straight to excruciatingly-hot as she tried to wrap her head around what had just happened between her and Jane. Feeling slightly guilty, Maura thought back to past instances when she had fantasized about Jane kissing her (and more), but now she didn't need to repress those thoughts—did she? Jane had initiated it in real life, just now, and it had been breathtaking to the point that Maura actually needed to fan herself.

It dawned on her that she had rarely ever done much for her own happiness. Yes she enjoyed all the wonderful gifts life had to offer, and she took advantage of them as much as possible, but she had never truly done anything on her own. She had grown up under her father's loving but strict eye, then been terrified of straying too far from that path when she went to visit her less-controlling mother. Even then, though, Maura had felt pressured to please her mother, to do right by everybody. Moving to Arizona had been beyond exciting and such a remarkable experience, but that had initially begun as a way to be close to Garrett again.

Since coming to Hollow Creek, Maura had found her time and attention split mostly between Garrett and Jane. At first Garrett had been a real pal, eager to spend time with her and show her the sights. They genuinely enjoyed and looked forward to their time spent together. But it seemed as though once he got accustomed to having her around, his work and self-importance began to take precedence over Maura.

She would never forget the way Jane had looked at her, had held her, the night she learned her father's killer was in Illinois. This was a man she had spent half her life searching for, and had even already tried finding while she knew Maura, but by this point they had started spending so much more time together. Maura had sensed that Jane was torn about leaving, and somehow she knew it was a first. Apart from the rather drastic move from Boston to Arizona, Garrett had never seemed to regret that his work occasionally made him leave Maura behind. True, his work didn't exactly involve the same risks posed to Jane, but still—it had deeply mattered to Maura that even if obligation had wound up winning, Jane had appeared to seriously consider staying back for once.

Being with Jane was never an obligation, was never tiresome. Hours flew by like they were minutes, seconds; no moment could last too long or move too slowly. When Maura wasn't with Jane, she was thinking about her.

Thinking. Maura had always been good at that, she had always been used to it. In a wildly exciting detour from her regular (sober) routine, tonight, Maura had allowed emotion and basic human desire to override her thoughts and basic decorum. Despite the fact that she was alone, she knew she was blushing deeply at the recollection of Jane's urgency, at how she had grasped Jane's hair and pulled her so close it hurt. Her wrist was starting to get sore from how excessively she was waving that fan, trying desperately to cool herself off before Jane returned.

_I'd never have let Garrett kiss me like that, and we were engaged. What are Jane and I? _She was far too flustered to think about that too much for now. All she knew was that she didn't want anyone else besides Jane Rizzoli to ever touch her that way again.

Jane meanwhile, had been engaged in a somewhat one-sided conversation with Bass, whose crate had been stored in the washroom for the time being. She knew asking him for his opinion on all of this was possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life, but it only widened the already-ridiculous grin that felt permanently slapped on her face. Peeling off the drenched clothing felt a little gross, and Jane didn't hesitate to use one of the clean and soft towels Maura had hung up to dry herself off a bit. She also wrung out her hair and gave it a good going-over with the towel as well before pulling on the dark red union suit.

"What d'you think, Bass? Good color on me? Yeah? You've got good taste for a tortoise." She bent down to pat his head, then suddenly got an inexplicable mental image of Bass turning nasty and snapping her hand off. He certainly didn't _look _fast, but there was sort of a shifty feel to him, like he was waiting for the right moment to spring. "I've got my eye on you, Bass," Jane muttered, slipping into the robe Maura had bought and tying it tightly around her waist. It was a bit too big and too long for her, but that didn't really matter—all she needed was something to wear over the union suit.

She was rather amused to walk back to the sitting room and see Maura on the sofa by a roaring fire, furiously fanning herself with a black-lace, intricately designed fan. Her voice startled the doctor when she chuckled, "If you're too hot, Maura, we don't have to keep that fire goin', y'know."

Maura quickly shut the fan and walked over to take Jane's wet clothes out of her arms. "I know, and I'll be fine—besides, we need to keep this going so we can dry these off, right? Please, sit down." She had meant for Jane to sit on the sofa, but Jane just comfortably set herself right down on a rug on the floor, and after situating Jane's clothes on a rack by the fireplace, Maura hesitantly joined her.

"Feels good," Jane said after a long silence. "The fire, I mean."

"Hm? Oh, yes," Maura said hurriedly. She had been a bit distracted by the unexpected beauty of Jane's eyes with the flames reflected in them. It was an incredible visual metaphor for Jane's personality, showing the fire that always seemed just beneath her surface. For a moment, Maura nervously told herself she needed to look away, but then remembered she didn't need to be embarrassed anymore. Jane was clearly more than all right with the notion of Maura staring at her, admiring her.

Jane indeed felt Maura's eyes on her, and while the attention was nice, it made her feel a little anxious herself. When she turned to tell Maura this, she finally noticed a dark, purple mark on Maura's neck that definitely hadn't been there before.

"Maura!" she cried, sounding alarmed. "You're—what—on your neck, you're—"

Taken quite off guard by Jane's tone of distress, Maura's hand flew up to her neck to see if a goiter had suddenly appeared. Confused, she stood up to look in the mirror over the fireplace, and Jane stood as well, hoping Maura would recognize the problem. But she looked just as shocked as Jane to see what appeared to be two sizeable bruises on her neck.

"It looks like somebody tried to strangle ya," Jane gasped.

Finally something occurred to Maura, and she raised her eyebrows. "Oh."

"What?"

"Oh my."

"Maura, _what?_"

"I think…I think, um…well, the neck is a very sensitive part of the body and the blood vessels are particularly close to the skin, so I imagine it wouldn't take much stimulation to burst some of the blood capillaries there when certain pressure is applied." She bit her lip and turned to face Jane, still rubbing her neck. "So…"

"Are you saying _I _did that to you?" Jane asked, and Maura nodded weakly. "I—uh, okay. Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts."

"It feels a little sore, now that you mention it," Maura admitted, returning her gaze to the mirror, and Jane did as well.

"Sorry," Jane whispered.

"Don't be." _I like it_. "Although if you feel in need of penance, perhaps I could give _you _one and let you see how it feels."

The way Maura was currently looking at her made Jane feel a little uneasy. Sensing that Maura wasn't actually hurt, Jane sat wearily back down on the rug, and Maura joined her. She felt like she had gotten a bit out of control at the door, and was deeply ashamed at seeing visible evidence of it. A lady like Maura Isles shouldn't be treated so roughly. _A lady like Maura Isles probably shouldn't be kissing other ladies…_

But Jane couldn't focus on that too long right now; she just couldn't. She was sure it would come and stay in her mind at some point, but for at least this moment, she wanted only to concentrate on the sound of the rain outside mixing with the crackling fire, the warmth it brought, and most especially the feel of Maura leaning against her. Jane wrapped her arms around the doctor as they both watched the fire begin to die slowly.

Neither of them had any idea how long it had been before Maura broke the silence in a tired voice: "This is the first time I've ever been in this house and felt like it could be a home." She sighed in lazy satisfaction when she felt Jane's hand trailing down her arm, ultimately linking their fingers together. "I don't think it matters where I go, or where I stay. When I'm with you, Jane, I feel home."

"I feel that, too," Jane said quietly, closing her eyes and leaving a kiss near the top of Maura's head. "But you know what else this feels like? Right here, right now, being with you?"

Maura correctly guessed that Jane had intended this question to be rhetorical, to answer it herself, but she didn't speak up again for several long moments. Was she nervous, or just emotional? It felt as though she were trembling, and Maura squeezed her hand tighter, asking softly, "What?"

"Sanctuary," Jane said in a broken whisper. She gave a short, dry sob as Maura twisted around in her arms. "This is sanctuary."

The last word was nearly cut off when Maura kissed her, and both of them realized their remembrance of this sensation hadn't done the feeling half justice. The silk covering so much of Jane's body provided a wonderful contrast to her rough skin, and Maura was utterly lost in the way Jane's fingers were curling possessively into her hair, drawing her close. It felt so right, so good, that it almost hurt.

"I just want to feel you," Jane murmured between two soft kisses, sounding defeated and in a higher pitch than usual, the words coming out before she had time to think of something more intelligent or poetic.

"So feel me," Maura said back, gently pushing Jane to lie down and settling between her legs.

Jane's touch was hesitant and tender, as she was nervous about accidentally bruising Maura again. That said, she allowed her hands to traverse all over Maura's body as they resumed kissing in a much less frenzied way than they had at the door. There was nothing, _nothing _that could have prepared either of them for how good this felt, but still, Jane had started getting a gnawing feeling of concern in the pit of her stomach. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the feeling of Maura's lips on hers, but she couldn't quite place what was starting to make her worry—other than perhaps the insanity of what they were doing.

The fire had finally mostly died down, and Jane tried to sit up. Slightly disappointed, Maura shifted to make this easier, and Jane crossed her legs.

"Do ya think maybe we should… I mean, I think we should go to bed," she finally mumbled. _Then I can go to sleep and see if I wake up and this was all just a dream, which it has to be. It's too good to be true_.

"Okay," Maura said, taking Jane's hand and standing up. "I admit I'm a little tired myself." _Kissing requires much more energy than I anticipated… _"The bedroom is this way."

The hallway stretched long before them, and as Jane forced her feet to move, she felt as though she were taking the long walk to a showdown. Yet somehow, it seemed they had reached the door in no time, and when Maura nudged it open, there indeed was an indecently large bed. Jane felt her mouth go dry. Maura loved her. She said she loved her. A nightgown had been tossed lazily over the back of a chair in the room, and Maura was a little embarrassed to have had her sloppiness revealed, but Jane couldn't have cared less.

"Wait," she whispered, when Maura moved to go get the gown. "Can I…?"

Maura looked her in the eye, waiting for Jane to continue, but Jane's voice had faltered and she was too self-conscious to make the request. "You… want to undress me?" Maura finally guessed, and Jane nodded.

"I mean—just to what you'd wear to sleep. Er, unless you don't, uh, wear anything beneath that nightgown."

"Well…considering it's winter, I usually leave on the top that's beneath this corset."

"Okay. So then…" Jane placed her bare hands near the collar of Maura's shirt, and when Maura said nothing, Jane took it as permission to begin. She deftly undid the buttons of the shirt, not allowing herself to pause over certain parts of Maura's body, just moving down until she could pull the shirt off.

From there, Jane continued the arduous process of untying, unbuttoning, and de-lacing, helping Maura to step out of layer after layer, revealing more and more of herself to Jane. When all that was left were her pantalets and the corset over her sleeveless white camisole, Jane turned Maura around to begin untying the corset. She was happy to discover that this was much easier than trying to put one on a person.

When she was able to tug the corset free, Jane simply dropped it to the floor and put her hands on Maura's hips, gently but firmly enough to keep the woman from turning back around to face her. Forcing herself to feel as confident as she sounded, Jane whispered into Maura's ear, "I know we're in Mr. Fairfield's house. But whose are ya?"

Determinedly fighting Jane's grip, Maura turned herself around to look Jane in the eye, taking her face into her hands and stroking her cheeks. "Yours," she whispered, leaning in for a short, sweet kiss. "All yours."

"And who am I?" she asked quietly.

Maura furrowed her brow, momentarily confused. But then she got it. Jane wanted to be verified in this position as a woman, as herself, not Jake Wyatt. "Jane. Jane Rizzoli." She laughed softly. "You _are _Italian."

"Well my parents were, so I guess that makes me one, too." Silence hung between them for a few moments, then, "Maur—Maura, are you crying?"

"Yes," Maura said, still smiling as a few tears trickled silently down her face. "I'm not entirely sure why—I just…" She took hold of Jane's arms and sat down on the bed. "Jane Rizzoli, I love you more than I can say."

They never did get to the nightgown.

Maura was lying on her back on the bed, and Jane hovered over her beloved friend. Cupping the doctor's cheek, she said, "I love you, Maura Isles. I am going to spend every minute of every day of the rest of my life showing you how much, starting now." She lowered herself completely onto Maura, taking the woman's hand and kissing the back of her fingers. "And I'm going to take my time, because we have all the time in the world."

That said, it was with an air of impatience that Jane swept her hair over to one side of her neck, then gently rubbed her thumb over Maura's lips before leaning in for a kiss. Again it was softer, less frenzied than earlier, and almost better for it (was there really a point in comparing them?). Once in her life, Jane had gotten hold of a rose, and she had kept and rubbed every petal until they each shriveled up, because she couldn't get enough of how they felt—velvety, soft, open, not uninviting or rough in any way. That's what kissing Maura was like: pressing two full rose petals to her lips. The feeling was too gorgeous to risk losing even for a second, and Jane was loathe to break away for breath.

Instead of pulling away, she just opened her mouth slightly more in an attempt to bring in some air. In what she would later consider to be one of her more inspired ideas, Jane wondered how a rose petal would feel on her tongue: she ran it across Maura's lips, causing the woman to gasp into their ongoing kiss, quickly opening her own mouth to inadvertently grant access to Jane's tongue. Whatever strength Jane had had was stolen the very instant their tongues met—she collapsed fully onto Maura, tongues meshing, teeth nipping, connecting them more and more deeply. Maura's fingers were wound tightly into Jane's thick curls, bringing her impossibly closer.

As intoxicating as this feeling was, Jane really did need a chance to breathe properly. She moved her lips to Maura's cheek, leaving a trail of gentle kisses after the course of the doctor's last tear. Her tongue poked out occasionally, collecting small salty droplets all the way past the curve of Maura's jaw, down to her neck, where she especially took care to be gentler than she had been before. Maura unconsciously turned her head to accommodate Jane's ministrations, also unaware of the fact that she was moaning quite loudly. These sounds were far from lost on Jane, though, and she grinned to herself as she lightly traced Maura's collar with her lips. Soon she reached the neckline of Maura's top, and Jane felt the hair on her neck rise in fearful anticipation.

She lifted herself up, still mostly lying on top of Maura, but wanting to be able to look her in the eye. Maura stared quizzically back at her. She had a good idea of why Jane had stopped (clothing had gotten in the way of her downward progression), but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that they didn't know how to progress. What now? How to proceed—should they? The truth both were scared to admit, to each other and themselves, was that neither of them wanted to stop, even if they knew they should.

Mostly to try and buy some time, Jane took Maura's right hand and sat up on her knees. She kissed the back of her hand, then each of her fingers. With the gentleness of one holding a baby bird, Jane turned Maura's hand over, pressing her lips against the palm, then the wrist. Jane tried to harness all the self-control and capability of minuteness that she had lost a few moments ago as she started a trail of soft kisses down the inside of Maura's arm. She stopped at the crook, here obstructed by a sleeve; then she repeated the process on Maura's other hand.

Now she had lingered over and caressed all the skin that Maura's current state of dress had to offer. Their eyes met again, the gaze soft and eager. This was the decisive, precipice moment. One of them had to address it. Maura was sitting up slightly, propped on her elbows and the pillows, waiting. Just waiting.

Finally, Jane spoke in a hoarse whisper: "I think…I think we should stop."

"Yes, Jane, you're right," Maura agreed.

She reached beneath her and tried to pull out the cover, and Jane moved to help her do this. Once they were both lying beneath it, Jane untied the robe and shrugged it off, throwing it to the floor. Though their last exchange had been somewhat somber, neither of them could fight off grins as they lay on their sides and held onto each other, Maura slipping her arm beneath Jane's and Jane protectively reaching her leg over both of Maura's, pulling her in.

This was really what Maura had wanted, anyway. Now she might actually be able to sleep for the first time in a week. It didn't matter that falling asleep with Jane was what had led to the nightmare of Hoyt in the first place, because now Maura really knew with absolute certainty that there was nothing in the world too frightening to face so long as Jane Rizzoli was able and willing to be at her side.

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><p><strong>AN**: So...there's still a lot of story for these two. The thing is I've been wondering where and when a good place to end this one and start the sequel might be, and I _think _this could be it. But I don't know. I also kind of want to add to this part still. (That next morning is going to be a doozy. So you know what, yeah. I'm gonna keep adding to this one. If you have any good ideas for a sequel title, please share them. I'm lost.)


	44. Lock Stock and Teardrops

**A/N: ** First, thank you harperheather72 for reminding me of the song that gave this chapter its title, and thanks everyone for your sequel title suggestions. They have been delightful to peruse (and feel free to send more). I think I'm going to cap this story at 50 chapters, which is slightly insane, but oh well. Thank you for the continued support and (mostly) continued trust in where this story is going. I'm trying to stay true to what I think would realistically happen in this scenario, so... yeah. I may have fizzled on my other stories (whoops) but I'm full steam ahead on this one.

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><p>When Maura woke up, it took her a moment to orient her surroundings. She quickly remembered she was staying in Garrett's house, but what was this weight on her stomach? A tousled mess of dark, curly hair was partially visible, the rest disappearing beneath the coverlet Maura was now gently pulling back. Jane was resting on top of her, long legs tucked up, her cheek lying against Maura's abdomen. One arm was draped across Maura's stomach, holding her closely.<p>

"Jane," Maura whispered.

With a rush, it all came back to her. Jane had kissed her. Hard. Repeatedly. And she had been more than eager to return the action. Maura grazed her neck and wondered if the marks were still there from where Jane had kissed her—had branded her. It all seemed so surreal. Something she had only recently allowed herself to acknowledge she had been dreaming of and yearning for had finally occurred in the most perfect way.

Jane loved her back. She would stay. _She loves me. She wants me. She needs me as much as I love, want, and need her. _Maura had to laugh quietly to herself, still unable to believe it was really true, it was really happening. If she had thought last night's events were a dream, waking up with Jane lying half on top of her testified to the very opposite.

Several minutes might have ticked by before Jane woke up (or rather, before Maura grew too impatient and helped facilitate Jane's wakening). By becoming a doctor, Maura was happy to know she had signed up for a lifetime of service to others, and nothing made her feel quite as fulfilled or joyful as knowing she had helped to heal someone—or, in some drastic cases, even helped to save lives. All that satisfaction and those feelings of accomplishment were dwarfed by how it felt to see Jane so relaxed and at peace, and knowing that she, Maura, was at least partly responsible for instigating that comfort.

Maybe that's because in a way, Maura knew she and Jane had saved each other. More obviously, Jane had saved Maura from physical harm, but she obviously felt Maura had saved her in some way… _otherwise she wouldn't have called our closeness her sanctuary_.

There was no precedence, personal or otherwise (that she knew of) for what she was doing, for what she _wanted _to do. The thought of marrying Garrett had seemed like a good one at the time, but as jarring as it had felt to send him away so suddenly, Maura did not feel any regret or longing. A lifetime with him would have been business as usual. Conversely, the thought of looking forward to countless years with Jane brought an involuntary smile to her face; it breathed new excitement and anticipation into her. She had grown to love the fact that Jane always kept her guessing, kept her entertained and learning.

She couldn't help herself anymore. Maura started threading her fingers through Jane's hair, smoothing out the tangles and hoping to bring her gently back into the woken world. Finally she felt Jane shift, briefly tightening her hold and burying her face down into Maura's stomach before she realized Maura's body was not a pillow, cuing Jane to look up in confusion.

"Oh," she said softly, blinking a few times and moving her hand.

"Wait." Maura pressed down on Jane's shoulder, keeping her from sitting up. At this position, the unadulterated sunlight was shining over Jane's eyes and the effect was breathtaking. It didn't quite soften her eyes, but it made them gorgeously bright. Somehow they seemed more innocent. Jane was clearly disoriented, staring at Maura as though she were a mirage. When it finally dawned on her that she wasn't actually dreaming, Jane forced herself to sit up abruptly, her skin crawling with fear as she felt her hand brushing off Maura's thigh.

They stared each other down until Maura was sure that Jane fully remembered everything that had passed between them yesterday. She felt herself smiling as she saw comprehension and recognition dawning on Jane's features. Jane couldn't keep from letting her gaze linger on (the still quite visible marks on) Maura's neck, then her lips.

Her reminiscing was broken when Maura suddenly asked, "Why are you wearing pants?"

Jane looked down and saw that she was indeed wearing her (dry) jeans, but before she could answer the question, she looked back up at Maura and laughed. It had been Maura's tone that she found so amusing; she had sounded annoyed, almost even offended that Jane would think to put on more clothing.

"I got cold," she said. "You left your window open."

"You could have shut it, you know."

"Well, I thought maybe you liked it that way," Jane yawned, rubbing her eyes. "It's not a problem. I just got up and put them on. They were really warm from the fireplace. How come _you _ain't so cold? You ain't hardly wearin' nothin'."

Maura shrugged. "Usually I _do _get cold, but I… I had someone near me warm me up."

The smile faded off Jane's face and she surveyed Maura closely. "Are you…sorry?" Jane hated to ask.

Looking confused, Maura cupped Jane's face with her hand, rubbing a thumb against her cheek. "What about?"

Jane reached gently for Maura's wrist. "I mean—do you, uh, regret it?"

Maura had to wonder if Jane's memory was really so poor that she had forgotten how frequently Maura had been the one to initiate contact last night. But she quickly remembered Jane's tendency to doubt herself, to worry. Beneath that rough exterior, Jane was afraid of losing the only thing that had ever really mattered to her.

Words would not suffice right now, and the only way Maura could think to properly respond was to pull Jane into a languid kiss. She rolled herself on top of Jane; they moved softly and slowly, tempering the rapidity of Jane's heartbeat. Jane tried to sit up more, propping herself up against the pillows and allowing Maura to fully straddle her. They maintained the kiss, and Maura let her hands trail slowly down Jane's chest. Unwilling to break the kiss, Maura struggled to blindly undo the first few buttons of Jane's union suit. Once Jane realized what was going on, Maura felt Jane stiffen beneath her.

"Please, Jane," she whispered, looking determinedly into those soulful brown eyes. She frowned at Jane's trembling lips. "Do you want this?"

"I want you," Jane husked, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual. "But…" _We're in Mr. Fairfield's house, in his bed… _She gulped and forced the words down, choosing happier ones. "It's more than that. I ain't ever felt this way, Maura, about anyone or anything else." She brought one of Maura's hands close and reverently kissed each of the fingertips. "When I woke up cold in the night, I didn't feel cold right away. I felt …I felt needed. Appreciated. I left to get my jeans and when I came back, I was so glad to see you were still here and still asleep that I almost cried. Coming back to bed with you, I don't know how to describe it…"

"You felt home," Maura suggested, speaking from experience.

"Yeah," Jane said quietly. "Yeah, I did." She sighed deeply, but still looked a bit uncomfortable. "I told you things I ain't ever told anyone else. Like my name."

"Rizzoli?" Maura asked with a smile. "Didn't you say people around these parts still knew it, they just knew better than to say it?"

Jane shrugged. "A lot of people have come in since we stopped goin' by Rizzoli. Dr. Byron, for example. Even Grant. I only met the both of them last time I was home, five years ago. I miss the way it sounded, my name. Never thought I would. But then, I guess I didn't ever hear you say it." She allowed herself to smile at Maura's obvious delight in this. "I like the way it sounds in your voice."

"Really?" Maura whispered. "Jane Rizzoli." She chuckled when Jane gave an exaggerated shiver. "I like the way it sounds, too. Do you have a middle name?"

Jane was about to lie or just shake her head, but the quiet eagerness in Maura's eyes was hard to fight. "You'll laugh."

"No I won't."

"Yes, you will."

Maura kissed the tip of her nose. "I promise I won't."

"Adorable" was not a word Maura thought would ever have applied to someone as rough around the edges as Calamity Jane, but it seemed to be the only fitting adjective when Jane scrunched up her eyebrows and with the tiniest of nervous smiles, whispered, "Clementine."

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli."

"Yes."

"I like it. It suits you."

"Aw, c'mon, Maura."

"No, really! It's like this, here." She rested her hand near Jane's heart, pressing gently. "It's sequestered away between your first and last name, so hardly anyone ever gets to know about it—like so few people get to know the real you, when you spend so much time going around as Jake Wyatt."

"Spent."

"What?"

"Spent," Jane repeated, now looking a little more grave. "Jake's gone, Maura. He died with Hoyt. He ain't real. I… _I'm _real. Whatever the hell I am, I'm real when I'm with you, and that's how I want to stay." Anything else she might have said was lost on her due to the look Maura was giving her, full of unbridled adoration and tenderness. "Is that how _you_… I mean, how're you feelin', Maura?"

"Truth?"

"Could you put it any other way?" Jane chuckled.

Maura laughed softly. "I suppose not." Her expression became a little more serious as she turned Jane's hand over and kissed the palm. "I'm feeling that if I could wake up with you every day, and speak with you, and work with you, and just be with you every day …I would be the happiest woman in the world."

"Really? In the _entire _world?" Jane teased her. "You know how happy every woman in the world is?"

Maura shook her head. "What I know is that it would be extremely difficult for anyone to reach a higher level of happiness than I've achieved in the last twelve hours."

"Oh, I dunno," Jane murmured, kissing Maura's fingers. "I might run a close second." She pulled Maura into her, reveling in the feeling of Maura body pushed against hers. Maura's back was pressed into Jane, their arms intertwined, Jane's chin resting on Maura's partially bare shoulder. After an achingly long pause, Jane whispered, "Maura… what happens now?"

This question was met by silence, and she wished she could see Maura's face. "If you were a man," Maura said slowly.

"I would marry you today," Jane cut her off, brushing her lips against Maura's neck. "Hell, Maura. I think I been in love with you for a long time."

Maura squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb across Jane's fingers. "I didn't know this was possible. Until I met you, I never would've thought that I could feel… this way …towards someone like you. Another woman, I mean."

"Feel what way?" Jane asked in a hushed voice.

Taking a deep breath, Maura tried to wrap her head around it. "Everything. When you'd leave, when you could have been in danger, when you were with me, I felt the way I imagined any woman would feel about her husband. It just took me so long to realize it, because it's… well, so different. But Jane, I know it now. I am irreversibly in love with you."

"Dictionary mouth," Jane husked into Maura's ear, leaving a kiss under her lobe.

Chuckling, Maura shifted to turn on her other side, so she could face Jane. Cupping the woman's face, Maura explained, "It means there's no going back. I am in love with you and there's nothing I can do about it." Her fingers traced down to Jane's collar and she stared at her chapped lips. "Nothing… except maybe…"

She shifted so that she could again straddle Jane, who sat up slightly against the pillows, too weak to deny Maura another kiss. They did not stop at one, though: Jane had one fist buried in Maura's hair, the other clinging possessively to her already rocking hip. Their mouths and tongues meshed together and they were quickly lost again that wordless world of whimpers and moans. Maura wasn't sure how it had happened so fast, but suddenly she was throbbing, and she felt a dampness rub against her leg. A recollection slammed so hard into her that Maura nearly got an instant headache—the undeniable connection between her body's response to Jane—

Maura was so shocked that she gasped and cried out, pulling back. She had been struck instantly with the depth of what they were doing, where they were going, and she wanted to make sure Jane understood it, too. But all she saw reflected in Jane's face was concern and a little bit of fear, which was sort of fair considering that Maura had just made a noise which might have been appropriate if she'd seen a scorpion crawling down her arm.

Suddenly a loud, harried knock sounded at the front door. Maura dazedly turned to look out into the hallway before looking back at Jane to see if she'd heard it, too. Judging by her wide brown eyes, yes. The knock came again, louder and faster.

"Maura?" came a worried voice.

"Is that…Byron?" Jane croaked.

"Maura, if this door is not open in five seconds, I am breaking in!"

"Great _balls _of fire!" Maura cried, jumping off the bed and nearly tripping on the sheets. She grabbed the robe that Jane had discarded on the floor last night and quickly threw it on, knowing it wasn't ideal but not having time to grab one of her own. Byron had just reached five when Maura breathlessly yanked open the front door. "Yes?" she asked, smiling brightly.

Byron looked nothing short of shocked, partly due to Maura's attire (or lack thereof).

"What's all the excitement about?" Maura asked, trying not to look flushed.

"I was aiming to ask you the same thing," Byron said, peering inside the house. "I was doing my routine morning constitutional when I passed by your house. I heard a shout. Are you all right?"

Fortunately he was too preoccupied trying to see inside to notice the mortified look of horror that briefly covered Maura's face. "Dr. Byron, you don't need to worry! I'm not being attacked or held against my will."

"Did you shout?" Byron asked her.

"Well—yes," Maura stammered. "There—was a… wild animal in my bed…room."

His eyes widened and he reached instinctively for the knife he typically kept on his belt. "Is it dangerous?"

"Oh, no! No, I was just taken off guard, that's all!"

"What kind of a creature was it?"

"A…uh…Janicus Rizzolicus."

"Ah."

"Usually quite rare in these parts. You can't blame me for being interested."

Byron wasn't quite up to date on the proper Latin names of all the wildlife in the area, and not wanting to appear ignorant (and feeling assured, as Maura genuinely didn't seem frightened), he merely nodded. "So… well, sorry to have interrupted your morning, then."

"That's quite all right. I'm flattered that you would be so concerned!"

"Yes…well, actually I have something I'd like to discuss with you sometime, if you're not too busy."

"Certainly! Not right now, I'm afraid, but this afternoon, perhaps?"

"All right then. Well…" He had so far masterfully avoided looking anywhere beneath Maura's eyes, and the moment he allowed his gaze to lower, Byron turned on his heel and said, "I'll speak with you later, then."

Maura kept on a smile until he had walked away, then she hurried to shut the door and go back to the bedroom. Jane was standing up, looking guilty, and she walked past Maura out of the room and down the hallway. "That was close," she said, picking up her shirt from where it hung by the fireplace. "Janicus Rizzolicus, huh?"

"I was panicked," Maura scowled, though she knew Jane wasn't trying to be mean. "I figured it was safe, since he only knows you as Johnson. He probably thinks I found some rare sort of lizard in my room."

"Well, you were right," Jane muttered, doing up the buttons of her shirt. "My kind _is _a rare breed in these parts. This part of town, I mean." _Your part of town_. Byron's sudden appearance had thrown her off and reminded Jane that last night had, in a way, been a dream: she and Maura were not the only people in the world, they could not live in this town without ever having to see anyone else. "I don't think I should be here."

Something in her tone led Maura to understand that Jane wasn't merely suggesting they change locations. "What is it, Jane?" Maura whispered, unable to keep nervousness out of her voice.

"Oh, Maura," Jane breathed. "I love…I love doing things for you, I love seeing you in his robe I wore last night. I loved falling asleep with you, and waking up in your arms this morning." With a shuddering breath, she added, "I loved feeling you."

"Then what is it?" Maura asked, still sensing hesitancy in Jane's tone, despite the wonderful things she was saying.

"Maura, you're a smart woman," Jane said. "You know what this is, what we're doing. It ain't right. People don't think it's right. And I done bad things, Maura. I've had to kill men. I've been impure. I've robbed people, scared them. You are so much more than that. You're clean. I don't want to be the one who… who defiles you."

"Don't you say that," Maura whispered, her voice soft but insistent. "Don't you _ever _say that, Jane. You are _not _wicked. You are not. And by ridding me of Garrett and giving me yourself, you have saved me from a lifetime of grief and pain. Now about last night—did you make me do it at gunpoint? This morning, did I tell you I was sorry? Answer me that, Jane. Answer me."

"No," Jane mumbled, down-casting her eyes.

Maura tucked her hand under Jane's chin, forcing those doe eyes up to look at her. "Jane, this isn't just what we want. It's what we _need_. Well …I can't speak for you, but I need you. I _need_ you, Jane."

"I'm in love with you, Maura," Jane whispered. "And I need you like I've never needed anyone or anything before in my life."

"I can't picture my life without you in it," Maura said, her voice cracking with vulnerability. "Please don't give up on me, Jane, please—!"

Jane grabbed hold of Maura and held her tightly, pressing her tall, strong body against Maura's suddenly shaking one. "Sweetheart, no. I will _never _leave you if you _really_ want me to stay."

"Stop doubting me!" Maura sobbed. "This is my _choice_, Jane."

"You're sure?" Jane asked, pulling back again. "You know I can't ever …I can't give ya children, Maura. If you stay with me, you can't be a mother." Now she was the one fighting (and failing) to keep emotion out of her voice. It killed her because she knew what a good mother Maura would be—sweet and understanding, smart and cultured, eager to explore the world through her children. She also knew how important a job Maura considered it, and how much she yearned for it.

Maura looked solemn. "That's true," she admitted softly. She had been so swept up in the passion of Jane's romance that she hadn't even considered this glaringly simple truth. At these two words, Jane looked up, and Maura read fear in her eyes. She lifted her hand and stroked Jane's cheek, letting her fingers curl near Jane's ear. "Does that worry you?"

"Well—yeah," Jane snorted. "I'm afraid you'd grow to resent me for it. Kids are somethin' Garrett could give ya and I never can. I can't steal a baby for ya, I can't grow one out of the land. Maura, I wanna give you everything you want, everything you deserve. And it kills me to know that I can't."

Maura pulled Jane into a gentle kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just one pair of lips pressed earnestly against another, her hand resting on the back of Jane's head. There were no words to describe how incredibly gorgeous this felt—how beautiful, how right. If ever either of them experienced any doubt or concern about this relationship, nearly all could be washed away by just a kiss, or the memory at least of this feeling. Kissing Jane made Maura feel safe, protected, enamored, worshiped, adored. Jane felt the emotions being channeled into her of someone who _loved _her, desired her, yearned for her protection.

Maura finally pulled back, leaving her hands folded behind Jane's neck and staring deeply into her deep brown eyes. "Jane, you know I cannot lie. You bring up a very good point. I would _love _to have children. I would love so much to be a mother. But if that would come at the cost of marrying Garrett, or some other man who I wasn't in love with, and who didn't love or respect me… how could I raise a child in that environment? How could I raise a child being married to a man I didn't love? That's the problem my mother had," she realized. "She just couldn't do it, and as much as I loved my parents, that tore me apart. Jane, I will never love a man as much and completely as I absolutely _love you_. Darling, I don't know if it's selfish or not—but I love you enough to give it up, the possibility of having children. And that is _not _a lie."

Jane closed her eyes and gulped heavily. "I want to be worth it, Maura. I _have _to be worth it."

"You _are_, dearest, you are," Maura whispered. "And I cannot foresee anything happening to make it not so."

"I just—I just…" Jane was crying softly, and Maura took it as a sign of how much Jane really cared about this that she wasn't even acknowledging her tears by trying to brush them away. "I wish there was a way to give you both. I wish you could be with someone who'd give you children …but that you could still be with me…"

"Wait," Maura breathed. "Let me say this just once: I hope you know I could never be married to a man while carrying on an affair with you. It would be dishonest, and it would be unfair to him and any children we had. Besides, Jane… would you want anyone else touching me the way you did last night and this morning?"

For lack of another example, Jane could only envision Garrett Fairfield kissing Maura hard, feeling her tongue in his mouth. She shook her head, both to answer Maura's question and to try and clear her imagination of that foul image. "No," she mumbled. "I want to be the only one who does that to you."

"Good," Maura said with a soft smile. "So we're in agreement."

Jane weakly attempted a smile in return. "Maura, look. If this was just up to me or about me, I wouldn't have no hesitations. You and me, what we've done, what we _want _to do… it ain't in line with good society. I'm used to that. You ain't. We don't need to have this relationship out in the open, but even if it ain't, there are doors that're gonna be closed to you. There are things a man and a woman can do in public, they can go out together to certain places, that we couldn't. We just couldn't. I need to be sure you could handle that."

"What're you saying?" Maura whispered, all traces of her smile gone.

She shared her realizations as they came one after the other into her mind: "I just think it's easy to get carried away, even for a crazy smart woman like you. At night in the dark, or just after you've woken up, the world don't seem real. There ain't no one but us, no consequences, no problems. You might feel different once you really _think _about it." She smiled ruefully at Maura's confused expression. "I should be thrilled. You're finally lettin' emotions run that big brain of yours, and it's in my favor, but…" She reached for Maura's hands and rested her forehead against the doctor's. "This is one thing you really… _really_ need to think about."

Maura tried to force herself to see the reason in Jane's point, but her emotions kept rising to the fore. She was hurt that Jane didn't seem to trust her, but Maura knew she did have to confront the reality of Jane's words. Her life would be nothing at all like she had ever imagined, and in some ways, not necessarily for the better. There _were _a number of things she would have to give up if she wanted to be with Jane. _Was _it selfish to give up motherhood so quickly, just after one night of quick passion? Even now, in the declarations of her feelings, maybe she had been a bit too rash. It was more than a little overwhelming when she stopped to think about it. Jane was right. This needed some serious consideration.

"All right," Maura eventually murmured. "I promise to think about it."

"Good," Jane said softly, pulling back and gently patting Maura's hand. "Good. I want you to be sure you understand what all you're getting yourself into. I just want you to be sure."

"Are _you _sure?" Maura asked, carefully watching Jane's every feature for a response.

But she needn't have been so scrutinizing, for Jane was quite open in her answer: "I'm very sure. If you decide you can't do this, which I would completely understand, I will leave. I'm used to leavin'."

"And if I don't decide that?" Maura asked, her voice a bit strangled.

Jane allowed herself a small smile. "Then it's like I said—just try and get rid of me."

Maura knew that sentiment ought to have pleased her, but her serious frown remained in place. "Jane, what do _you _want?"

"All I want is for you to be happy," Jane answered.

"But what do you _want_?" Maura repeated, frustrated that she wasn't getting a straightforward response. "What would make _you_, Jane Clementine Rizzoli, happy? I think I deserve to know your answer to that."

Looking down at the floor, Jane said, "I suppose that's true. You _do _deserve an answer. Maura, I want to be at your side for the rest of my life. I want to be the main person bringin' you joy. I want to be the one who's there to comfort ya when you're sad. I want to be the only person sharin' your bed with ya. I want to be in charge of your safety, your well-being. I want _you_, Maura. I want you."

Though Maura had been hoping for and slightly expecting an answer like this, her nod did not properly convey her euphoria at hearing this response.

"All right," Jane said quietly. She left a brief kiss on Maura's forehead, then pulled back. "I think then maybe I ought to let you be for a while."

"Right now?" Maura asked, her voice dripping with disappointment.

With a rueful smile, Jane said, "Yes. I won't go far, I promise."

"Are you leaving town?" Maura asked.

Jane just patiently repeated herself: "I won't go far. You need some time to yourself to think, Maura. I'll have Frost stay here. When you come to your decision, tell him you want to see me, and he'll know where to find me."

"Jane, this doesn't seem wise," Maura stammered. "I mean—you running off like this, right after we—we—" Her hands waved helplessly, as if she were trying to grope the right phrase out of the air. "Right after we _kissed_ like that!"

Both of them felt a leap in their insides at the reality of those words, but Jane couldn't let it stop her from replying, "I am _not _runnin' out on you, Maura. I want you to have time and ability to really think this all out, and think it out clearly. I am in, I'm _all _in, Maura—and I believe that you love me. I really do."

"Then why are you leaving me?" Maura whispered plaintively, cupping Jane's face with her hands.

Turning to kiss Maura's palm, Jane said, "You told me you understood. Just take some time to _think _about it. Okay? Tell me you get it, Maura. Tell me you know how much I completely love you, and want the best for you."

"I think you're what's best for me," Maura said with a small pout. "But I can't believe you'd just abandon me like this."

"This is killing me," Jane said darkly, her voice a strange mixture of hurt and anger that Maura wasn't getting the point. "The thought of leavin' you right now is pure hell. But if we stay together, we won't be able to think straight. I know deep down that _you _know I'm right. This ain't the sort of thing we can just jump into doin'. Would we stay here? Could you handle the questions, the surprise that you never married? A young, beautiful woman like you, livin' with a—a calamity like me? Stayin' here without givin' you time to think about it would be selfish of me. I don't wanna be selfish anymore."

A long, challenging silence passed before Maura answered: "It seems selfish either way, but I gave you my word to think about it, so I will. I have a counter-offer, though."

Jane furrowed her brow. "All right. What is it?"

Maura shook her head. "Don't go far. Don't stay away, not entirely. That isn't fair, Jane. After all we've been through …don't ask me to give you up so suddenly, so completely."

"But if I'm around, you're gonna want to see me," Jane protested. "And I'll want to see you."

"That's the idea, yes."

"That's _not _the idea, Maura. The idea is to try and deal with the chance that we might never see each other again. We have to learn how to be happy when we're apart, or—"

"Jane!" Maura cried. "Stop! Just stop! It doesn't matter how long you stay away or how little we see each other, I already _know _that with you, I've been happier than I ever have in my life! My _entire_ life, Jane! And I know you feel the same!"

"Dammit, Maura, I'm doin' this for you!" Jane shouted. "You ain't heard a thing I've been sayin', have ya? There are other ways to be happy—you could have a family, a real full life, but if I'm around, you'll choose me over that."

"Exactly! And what does that tell you? No matter what I do, Jane, there'll be a cost. That's always how it is, that's how _life _is. By sailing to Europe all the time when I was growing up, I sacrificed the time necessary to build friendships with people my age, but the cost of staying behind would have been having no relationship whatsoever with my mother. When I moved all the way to this small town to be with Garrett, the cost was familiarity, a big city, a sense of belonging—but I regret nothing, Jane, I regret _nothing!_"

"That's great for you, Maura, it really is," Jane said shortly, not sounding terribly convincing. "I don't want to be the first thing you regret."

Somehow they were standing much closer than they had been a few minutes ago, and it crossed Jane's mind how easy it would be to end this argument by shoving Maura against the wall and shutting her up with a kiss. She wanted so badly to do it, and Maura sensed this, but by now Maura had let her pride get raised way too high to succumb to such behavior.

"Fine," Maura said quietly. "But I still believe I have the right to see you. I understand that Garrett is intending to move back to Boston, so I can't ever return there. And besides, I want to stay here. I don't want to be the reason you leave your family indefinitely. We need to learn to act normally towards each other in front of other people. Wouldn't you agree?"

Jane tightened her lips and clenched her teeth, fidgeting noticeably. "Yes," she stiffly answered after a long pause. "That makes sense."

"You're damn right it does," Maura said back. Hearing a cuss word slip out of that refined mouth still made Jane laugh a little, and she couldn't keep the sound from escaping her. Brief though it was, it helped to slightly diffuse the angry tension between them, and Maura relaxed a little. Jane made to leave, but Maura said in a gentler voice, "Jane, please, before you go…"

"Yes?" Jane whispered, turning to look at her.

"Just…just once more?"

It was obvious what Maura was asking for, and difficult to know what the right choice would be. Jane was torn, feeling it would be inconsiderate to have made this big speech about how they needed to distance themselves from this part of their relationship for a time, only to kiss her again. But she also recognized that Maura must have swallowed a great deal of pride for this request, and that should be acknowledged. Besides ...if this ultimately wound up being what they both decided on, it would be a good idea to make sure that kissing her still felt—

Oh God, it was even better than she'd remembered.

Maura had pulled her into a soft kiss, and Jane hadn't fought her, instead letting her arms wrap around the smaller woman's waist.

With that admittedly biasing goodbye, when Jane left, Maura couldn't help feeling confident in what her eventual decision would be. She smirked to herself, imagining the sundry ways she could get Jane Rizzoli to rue the day she had ever believed Maura would tire of kissing her.


	45. Opportunity Costs

**A/N**: Shout-out to the awesome **Googlemouth**, who has been my incredibly helpful sounding/rambling/advice-giving board for quite some time now. And thanks for the reviews, guys :) Seriously, you are awesome and I appreciate the feedback so much. Thanks for sticking with this story!

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><p>"It doesn't really make sense, does it? Or… <em>does <em>it? I understand what this is. I mean I don't, but I do. This may quite certainly be the wildest thing I have ever done, but I don't regret it. But Jane's right. It's easy to lose oneself in the… what might you call it, the 'heat of the moment'? When it comes down to it, this could be an exceptionally difficult thing to live with. No children. No sense of security in a social setting. Probably no end to the inquiries of why I never married—unless I stayed here, and people understood I could never bring myself to love a man besides Garrett, and he's gone. No wedding. No wedding dress. No acknowledgement by a single soul that I was in love with another human being. Well, no acknowledgement by anyone except her. Except Jane.

"Isn't that all that should really matter, though? I know it doesn't do to focus so heavily on all the negative things. Jane would know how much I love her, and she needs to know how deeply she is loved. She really does. She could have taken me last night, and I think I would have let her. She could have taken me this morning, and I would probably have been willing. But she wanted to do right by me. She wanted me to think, so here I am. Thinking. Talking. Out loud. To someone who I don't think is really listening." Maura sighed loudly and sank down to the floor to get a better look at her sounding board. "_Are_ you listening, Bass? Is any of this getting through to you?"

He blinked one eye.

"Oh, can you wink, Bass? I didn't know you could do that. I suppose there's plenty I don't know about you, isn't there? Just as there are certainly plenty of things you don't know about me. Frankly, _I _don't know much about me at the moment; at least, I don't feel as though I do. I've never been this confused." She sighed again, closing her eyes and banging her fist against her forehead. "No. I said I was done being negative. We are focusing on the positive. Do you know what women want, Bass? What women want when they choose a husband?"

Maura thought Bass looked as though he were about to blink his other eye, only to have thought better of it. It made him appear a bit dazed, as if this conversation was tiring him.

"I'll tell you what they want—or I'll at least tell you what _I _wanted. Women want stability. They want love. They want protection. They want to know at the end of the day that someone is there for them, giving his all for her well-being. Some but not all women are like me, and ask for a bit of equality and respect in their marriages. Then there are women who might marry for money, which I would never do, but then there are also women who choose a husband who will help them rear a family…" She sniffed and pulled her knees up to her chest, wearily resting her cheek on one of them. "And I want that, Bass. I want it."

This was getting ridiculous. No; it wasn't _getting_ ridiculous—it had _started_ ridiculous. A tortoise couldn't give her advice or even nod in agreement. He couldn't do anything but sit there and wonder when he would be fed again. But pacing back and forth in the kitchen with nothing to distract her had quickly made Maura worry she was about to descend into madness. Admittedly, talking to her tortoise about her problems could also be considered its own brand of insanity. In her defense, though, she needed to get these words out loud in the open in order to process them thoroughly. She had always been that way; her father used to chuckle when he'd walk by her room and hear her murmuring scientific and medical procedures to herself to better remember them.

"I've never felt this way before, Bass, not about anyone. And I don't know, maybe it's because I've never really had a close female friend before, but I don't think friends are supposed to feel the way that we feel about each other. I didn't know it could be like this. I had no idea a kiss could _feel _that way, Bass, I—I understand now what my mother meant. Jane took me out of it, she took me out of everything and promised she'd do whatever it took to make and keep me happy. Of course, she also promised to stay if I asked her to, and where is she now? Gone."

Bass finally blinked the other eye.

"Then again, I suppose she fell victim to it as well, that… tendency to get carried away when romance comes straight to the fore. And I mean _the fore_, Bass. You know, I'm starting to realize that nearly every day we've been together since we first met, she has been courting me. Wooing me. I don't think she knew what she was doing, because I most certainly didn't, but I let her do it. I was happy to let her do it, because I loved how I felt when she was around me. Is that selfish? Is it selfish to give up a family for her? Because I want her, Bass. I want her more than I have ever wanted anything in my life."

At some point she had started crying, which she figured had been inevitable. Still she appreciated that Bass wouldn't make her feel weak for pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing vainly at her eyes.

"That must seem like a rather extreme statement, but do you want to know how I know it's true? I have spent a lifetime yearning for things. And I don't just mean legitimacy in my chosen profession. I have wanted so badly since I was a child for my parents to reconcile. I have wanted more than I could say to have had a confidant in Boston. I wanted a brother or a sister. All that made it hurt, right here." She put a hand to her heart and took a shuddering breath. "I don't know precisely where your heart is, Bass, or if you ever feel it ache. I've felt mine ache more times than I could count. But Jane, she… she extended it. When she touches me, I feel it everywhere. I want that. I want that feeling all the time, that unbelievable bliss. I know I won't get it anywhere else or from anyone else. And furthermore, I don't want to. Do I?"

Maura couldn't help feeling she had inadvertently touched on each piece of advice her mother had last given her. She had taken a chance. She may very well have made a grave mistake. And all of it left her in the greatest mess she had ever encountered.

After stewing silently on the floor a short while longer, Maura finally stood up and got ready for the day. She lamented to realize Jane had never made good on her offer to move the luggage out of the hallway, and as Maura didn't feel like picking any of it up again, she simply chose another dress out of the already-open case that was on top. Originally she went into the bedroom to change, but couldn't stay because she got distracted thinking of what she and Jane had been doing in there not too long ago. With a blush she noticed the still-open window that was a few feet above the bed, and undoubtedly through which Dr. Byron had heard her cry out.

_How dreadfully embarrassing_.

The first thing Maura did once she was dressed and looked presentable was to walk down the street to Byron's home. She had after all promised to drop by, and besides, it would give her a much-needed distraction. Fortunately he was there and not out on a job, and he welcomed her into the sitting room.

"I apologize for answering the door earlier in such an inappropriate state of dress," Maura said, taking a seat on the chair he had indicated. "But you did sound as though you were about to break into my—into the house."

"Forgive my excessive concern," Byron chortled, also sitting. "I should have assumed you would be able to take care of yourself. Did you succeed in getting the creature out of the house?"

Fighting a sad smile, Maura said, "I certainly did. What was it you wished to discuss with me, Dr. Byron?"

"Ah. Well." Byron was not typically the type to fidget, which is why Maura found it so odd that he appeared to be squirming now. "I have—I… hope you know, Maura, that this isn't easy for me, but I figure at this point, I've got nothing to lose." He sighed deeply, contemplatively, having already forgotten everything he had planned to say. "As you know, I've been a widower for three years now. My wife and I never had any children."

_Oh dear Father, if I've ever done anything of virtue in your eyes, please don't let him take this conversation where I think it's going_.

Byron awkwardly continued, staring at a spot on the floor by Maura's feet. "Yesterday I had a letter from my sister-in-law. She and my brother settled in Colorado quite some time ago, but my brother's just died of an attack. A heart attack."

Maura gasped sympathetically. "Oh, Dr. Byron, I'm _so _sorry."

He gritted his teeth and shrugged. "Thank you. He and I were never terribly close, but the fact that we are brothers has instilled in me a sense of familial obligation. My sister-in-law has nobody to turn to except me. Her father died when she was small, and her mother passed on just a year ago. She was an only child, and the rest of her kin are still in…" He scratched his head and glanced up at the ceiling. "Norway? Anyhow, I'm all she's got left."

"Are you… bringing her here?" Maura guessed.

Finally, Byron looked at her. "No. This place in Colorado, well, it's a sight bigger than the Creek here. You understand."

"You're… moving there?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Anne, my sister-in-law, hasn't really any skills to speak of, and she's got five children to feed. I figure the money I make working there would be significantly more than I make here, more than I could ever send her. So I'm heading out."

"You're leaving us?" Maura asked quietly. "Who'll be our resident doctor?"

"Well, Maura, that all depends on you. If I—if I ever venture into the realms of impropriety in this conversation, you don't have to take it. Just tell me, and I'll stop." He paused here, waiting for her to acknowledge the permission he was giving, and she accepted it with a barely discernible nod. "All right. This move is quite sudden, but I wouldn't leave until I had somebody in my place here. If that is not a burden you are interested in bearing, Maura, you don't need to. In fact, if it doesn't interest you, I have another proposition for you."

Maura gulped down a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes?"

"Yes. If time weren't of the essence, I certainly wouldn't bring this up, but as I'm aiming to leave town as soon as possible, I thought I might as well try it—and if you say no, well, there won't be any hard feelings and I'll be gone soon, anyway."

"Goodness, Dr. Byron, I wish you'd just get it out."

Byron nodded and clapped his hands together once, returning his gaze to the floor. "I know Mr. Fairfield left this town under duress, because of some involvement he had in a scheme against Jane. I don't know the particulars, of course, and I certainly can't pretend to know why you did not leave with him." His eyes flicked quickly upwards to Maura's to try and gauge her emotions and whether or not he should continue. Though she did indeed look a bit alarmed that he would have the boldness to bring this up, she did not appear angry or even that upset. So he continued: "This is not to say I don't believe your situation has left you without hope of pursuing marriage with another man at another time of your choosing, but I wanted to offer myself to you. I have a good name, will make good money, and can provide you instantly with five children."

This line got a laugh out of Maura, and Byron allowed himself to smile. "Your brother's children, Dr. Byron."

"Yes. My point is that Anne will certainly need help raising them, and I've seen the way you are with children. It would be a waste not to use your talents in that regard. I struggle in that capacity, and you could be of great help in raising my nieces and nephews. I would not ask you to bear any of mine."

The melancholy in his voice was too sad to ignore, overriding the potential awkwardness this conversation had to offer. "You don't want your own children?" Maura asked sorrowfully.

"It would require intimately knowing a woman who is not Sarah," Byron explained, naming his late wife. "And although I believe she would be understanding, I don't wish to disrespect her memory in that way. What I would like is a life partner. You and I seem well-suited to each other professionally, so I thought …I thought perhaps we could be suited for each other in a more social way, as well. We've both experienced heartbreak when it comes to romance." He nervously loosened his collar. "I promise to hold no ill will if you should turn down the offer, as I am sure there are many men here who would be eager to marry you and eventually help you to create life. But if you would rather abstain from such a relationship for the sake of what might have been between you and Mr. Fairfield, well …I just thought I might make a good alternative."

The humility in his tone was hard to miss and impossible to fake. It dawned on Maura that although they had been working together for months, she did not know much about Byron personally. He seemed to be a kind man, and was certainly good at his job, but their interests had never seemed to cross outside of medicine. She was a little overwhelmed by all of this—_he is asking me to marry him. He is asking me to marry him, just days after Garrett has left for good and the same morning that I woke up in Jane's arms_—but knew that were it not for the abruptness of his situation, this was likely not a topic he would have broached.

"Dr. Byron," she finally said, and he sat up a little straighter. "I am deeply moved that you would honor me with such a request. But… I'm afraid I cannot accept."

"I realize this is coming quite out of nowhere," he said quickly. "In fact, I surprised myself with the notion, but it seemed sensible. You're probably still in shock over what happened with Mr. Fairfield."

"Yes, you could say that."

"So…are you sure that answer is your final one? Because I can wait. You don't have to tell me until the day I leave."

"Dr. Byron—"

"Really, I would understand. You remember Dr. Callahan, in Green Forge? He can cover the Creek until a sufficient replacement arrives."

Maura spoke up a little more forcefully. "Dr. Byron. I don't want to prolong this or give you any false hope. Please don't take this as a personal slight, but I cannot marry you."

He nodded feebly. "It's your decision, Maura. Was it too soon?" he asked.

She reached over and touched his arm. "I think your manner in asking me was perfect. But the answer will remain the same in a day, a week, or a lifetime. I don't think I'll ever marry." That was still only partly true, but she had felt the need to voice this growing belief to Byron in calm certainty, to lessen the blow of her rejection. He had treated her so well, and she hated to add to his sadness.

Byron's eyes widened, and he shifted his arm to take Maura's hand. "Don't say that," he said seriously. "I know you're hurting now. But you'll find someone, Maura. If that's what you want, that's what you'll find. I truly believe that."

"And I truly wish you the best of luck in Colorado," Maura returned weakly, no longer wishing to discuss her romantic prospects. "I look forward to working more closely with Dr. Callahan."

"Why would you do that?" Byron asked, looking puzzled.

"You—didn't you just say you were going to ask him to oversee Hollow Creek?"

"Only if you came with me to Colorado. The way I see it, Maura, Hollow Creek's already got a mighty fine doctor. If any men ever give you trouble, you just send them on down to Callahan. Or write me, and I'll give them a piece of my mind."

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><p>After her conversation with Byron, Maura felt she had deserved the right to a good, long cry. The moment she had returned to Garrett's house, she flung herself onto the bed and wept for no specific reason other than the fact that her amygdala and lacrimal gland had a connection she couldn't really control. There was nothing she could do to stop this sob-fest from happening.<p>

It was all too much: Hoyt kidnapping them, nearly killing them; Garrett leaving, taking with him the future Maura had been counting on; Jane waiting seven days after Hoyt to show up on the porch; Jane kissing her; making incredible romantic promises, only to fall asleep in Maura's bed and break them the next morning. Leaving her again. Byron offering to marry her and whisk her away to Colorado for security and companionship. Then being told he thought she would make a capable head doctor for the town.

_It's your decision, Maura. _

_ Maura, this is something you've really got to think about_.

Being the ultimate decider was not a role Maura was accustomed to having, and as she choked her way through an endless stream of bitter tears, she realized she did not like it. Not at all. Growing up in Boston, she had done whatever her father told to her. In Europe, she had stuck like glue to the extremely loose guidelines her mother had suggested. The one ambitious, somewhat independent decision she had ever made was to move to Arizona, but that had already been a choice dictated by Garrett: if he hadn't decided to start a business out there, it certainly never would have occurred to Maura to leave Boston.

And now she had to make a decision that would change her entire life. She wasn't really even thinking of Byron that much anymore: he had made a very kind offer, but moving all the way to Colorado hadn't even been vaguely appealing. (Neither, she later realized, was the vow for a lack of intimacy. She understood his point, but were she ever to marry, intimacy would be quite important to her.) She tried to imagine how she would have felt if Byron had made this decision for her—_No, Maura, I'm afraid you'll just have to come with me. I need help and you're going to help me_. The very thought sent a chill down her spine and settled a heavy weight in her stomach, full of an aching sense of doom…

All of which was instantly lifted when she imagined Jane instead, grabbing her by the arm and saying _No, Maura, the choice is out of your hands. Wherever I'm going, you're comin' with me. You ain't goin' anywhere and you ain't ever gettin' married, because you've got __me__. And I ain't ever lettin' go. _And if Maura tried to protest, Jane would simultaneously shut her up and diffuse any possible argument with a kiss—and it would work, leaving Maura too breathless to think.

Maura had never understood just how much her imagination could stimulate her emotions. Simply visualizing this scenario with Jane had shifted the weight in the pit of her stomach up to a bursting flame that wrapped itself around her heart, smoldering to get out of her chest, to give Jane her answer.

_ But it hasn't even been a full day. She said I needed longer…and I'm sure she's right. Once I distance myself a little more from the memory of how it feels to kiss her, maybe it will be a little easier to be objective_.

It might have comforted Maura to know that for all of Jane's bravado and insistence that separating to think was the right thing to do, Jane wasn't nearly as cool as she had pretended to be.

Once she had returned to the spot where she and Frost had been camping out, he asked if she'd seen Maura. She merely nodded and grabbed a flask out of her saddlebag, emptying it without another word. All she wanted to do was get drunk, but she forced herself not to indulge anymore, so she could have a clear mind while she thought this out.

Had it been a mistake to leave this all in Maura's hands?

_ What if she says no? What if she decides to do the sensible thing and marry someone here? I couldn't stay. It'd be too much. After all we did, it'd be too much. I want her. I want her to want me. Did I make that clear enough without pushing her too hard?_

"Jane? Are you…crying?"

"Shut up, Frost."

He knew better than to bother her again, but he couldn't help feeling concerned. In the ten years he had known her, Frost had hardly ever seen Jane worked up like this: knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, rocking herself slightly as she sputtered on tears which refused to be held back. Seeing her like this was a unique type of torture. It was the only time Jane Rizzoli ever looked vulnerable, less than an icon. It was a needed but still unpleasant reminder for Frost that he was not working with someone who was invincible: she had feelings, she was capable of being hurt emotionally, but she didn't feel like confiding in him. It was almost worse when she wouldn't succumb to alcohol, because that meant she needed more than that to get the mood out of her system—it meant it was something serious that wouldn't go away quickly and that she didn't know how to deal with.

Even after about ten minutes had passed and Jane was no longer audibly crying, Frost didn't think it was safe to talk to her. She certainly didn't make any effort to start a dialogue. So, he wound up waiting until they had both gotten some sleep before venturing into the potentially dangerous realm of conversation with morning-Jane. He waited until she had finished eating a makeshift breakfast before saying, "Korsak was lookin' for you."

"You went into town this morning?"

"Yesterday. He said he wants you to stop by."

"You coulda mentioned that earlier," Jane grumbled, sounding annoyed as she got to her feet.

"Didn't think you'd want to see him when you were so…upset."

Mounting her horse, Jane snorted and said, "Yeah, I guess you were always smart, Frost. See ya."

She turned and rode back towards town, too drained to walk. It was a good thing she hadn't expended the energy, because once she reached the Sheriff's office, it was to be informed by Grant that Korsak was over in Wohaw Springs.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Jane sighed.

"I would guess in an hour or so."

"Know what he wanted to see me about?"

"Yes, but he made it pretty clear that I'm not at liberty to discuss it."

"That's too bad," Jane said, sounding incredibly bored and preparing to leave.

"But," Grant said, hoping to hook her attention, "you'll be glad to know our relationship may hang in the balance according to your answer. Our paths might barely cross from here on out."

It was with a little more enthusiasm that Jane said, "Fantastic. I can't wait to hear more."

Leaving her horse tied to the porch, Jane walked down the street towards the nice part of town. She had promised Maura not to make herself _too _scarce, so if she spent a little more time outside the woods, she could say she'd been truthful. There was obviously time to kill before Korsak got back, anyway. As she wandered a little farther down the street, glancing at the familiar storefronts and houses, Jane wondered where exactly she ought to go.

"JANE!"

Looked like that just answered itself.

Jane turned to see Adelaide waving at her from the front porch of the tailor's. "Hey, old lady, is yellin' like that good for your lungs?" she asked, feeling the relief that only a genuine smile could bring.

"Oh, you hush up," Adelaide scolded, brandishing her trusty ruler like a spear when Jane dared approach. "Where've you been keeping yourself, Calamity Jane?"

When she reached the porch, Jane just shrugged and leaned against the bannister. "Around."

As was inevitable, Adelaide smacked Jane's shoulder with her ruler. "That's a fine answer for a kid, Jane, but you're getting old. Pushing thirty at least, aren't you? You can't just go running off whenever you please anymore, disappearing without a word. People are depending on you, you know."

"Oh, yeah? People like who?"

"Well Angela, for starters. And your brothers. You know, your _kin?_" When this elicited no noticeable response, Adelaide narrowed her eyes and said, "Or Maura Isles." That got Jane's attention. "Heaven knows _she _positively seems to need you."

"No she don't," Jane quietly insisted.

Adelaide raised her eyebrows and turned to go back inside. "Really! Well, perhaps you'd care to tell her that yourself, then, because it's been getting a little tiresome listening to her ramble about you for the last hour and a half." Jane had followed Adelaide inside before the old woman had finished talking, so it didn't really register with her that Maura would be in the building until she found herself face to face with her. They had no time to do more than stare at each other before Adelaide said, "Just go on back, dear, I'll be right with you. Mr. Whistler apparently needs my opinion on something…"

As Adelaide grumblingly walked over to the tailor, Maura looked Jane in the eye and nodded towards the back room. After a moment's hesitation, Jane gave up and followed, figuring that the curtain door and the promise of Adelaide's swift return would keep her from doing anything too wild. Maura looked impeccably lovely as always, wearing a lavender-colored dress that suited her so perfectly, Jane could not even summon the thinking power to come up with an original compliment. So they stood there in silence for several moments, neither of them knowing what to say but wanting to take advantage of their solitude while they had it.

Finally, Maura was the one to speak. "Are you all right? You don't look well," she softly remarked, trailing the back of her hand delicately against Jane's cheek.

Jane flinched instinctively at the touch, and Maura withdrew. "Didn't sleep too good last night," she muttered, taking a step back.

"Neither did I."

"What'd you tell Adelaide?" Jane grunted, sounding accusatory.

"What do you mean?"

"She said—she said you'd been in here talkin' about me for over an hour."

Taking offense at Jane's tone, Maura said, "Well, she certainly saw fit to stoke your ego! I've been here no longer than fifteen minutes at best. You happened to come into the conversation because she asked if I knew where you were, and I told her I didn't, and I…" She huffed impatiently and lowered her voice. "Of course I didn't tell her you'd come to Garrett's house. For all she knows, it's been over a week since I've seen you. And naturally she also doesn't know how you and I got these," she said, indicating the small bandage on her neck covering the souvenir from their encounter with Hoyt.

"Well, what else did you say?" Jane mumbled, still on edge.

Maura took a deep breath. "Jane, I didn't—"

She was interrupted by Adelaide's sudden return, and though she and Jane hadn't been all that close to each other at that point, they both still jumped. Adelaide seemed not to notice. "Honestly, I think that man would be lost without me," she said, straightening the protective curtain. "Now. Maura. What were you saying?"

"About what?" Maura asked nervously.

"Oh, not about Jane," Adelaide said, waving her hand. "About the order from Paris. Did you really want me to cancel it?"

"What were you ordering from Paris?" Jane couldn't help asking.

"It's so tragic, Jane," Adelaide said wistfully. "What with Mr. Fairfield's departure, leaving our poor Dr. Isles all alone in this town. She doesn't feel she has need of them anymore."

"Need of what?" Jane asked blankly.

Maura was stammering her objection to the direction this conversation was taking, but Adelaide simply stepped in front of her, facing Jane and effectively blocking Maura from view. Her tone was one she might have taken if Maura wasn't even there: "Jane, while I know you may not be inherently familiar with the relations a man and his wife go through together, you still must have some understanding of their basic interactions."

"Uh…yes…" Jane said slowly, feeling herself growing hot.

"Well, then. Sometimes we ladies like to dress ourselves a little more nicely than usual for such events, a little more _scandalously_, even. If your husband is the only one who is going to see you in it, what's the harm? Maura told me quite a long time ago to get in touch with her mother's favorite garment-maker in Paris to put in a order for things she might like to have on her wedding night."

Jane's eyebrows were raised so high, they were in danger of disappearing into her hair. "Underthings?" she asked. Adelaide nodded gravely. "Well—Maura, I don't see how come you've got to cancel your order."

Maura's jaw dropped and she moved to gape at Jane over Adelaide's shoulder. "When the person I had intended to wear them for is no longer a person I would ever consider wearing them for?"

"Well…I mean…you might find someone else you'd like to wear them for," Jane said awkwardly, growing warmer yet as Maura's expression softened and she returned the blush.

"You see? I knew Jane would agree with me," Adelaide said triumphantly, turning to face Maura and putting her arm clumsily around Jane's neck—or trying to. "Jane, bend down a little," she muttered, so she wouldn't have to aggravate her shoulders by reaching up. "A-hem. As I was saying, Maura, you shouldn't assume that just because Mr. Fairfield is a bona fide coward who up and left you without so much as a fight that no other man will ever want to marry you. Why, if I had presumed such a thing, I'd have never gotten married to our dear, departed Mr. Johns."

This was a story Jane had never heard before. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I was engaged to marry Thomas Daniels when I was sixteen years old," Adelaide said. "And I thought it would be perfect. So what's my Romeo do one day? Takes off with the cook's daughter, who he'd gone and gotten in a family way! I thought I was ruined. Surely nobody would want a girl whose name had gotten mixed up with such a disgrace. But then Mr. Johns came into my life, and well, here we are."

"Addie, I had no idea," Jane murmured.

"I live to inspire, my dears," Adelaide said, taking her arm back from around Jane and patting Maura on the shoulder. "Now Maura, if you'd like some advice, you ought not to wallow. Let the order from Paris come through—you never know, you may want it! And until then, lest you go entirely insane from the lack of interpersonal communication, I would suggest going back to the boarding house."

Maura shook her head. "I can't do that. Don't ask me why; I just can't."

Naturally, Adelaide said, "Fine, I won't ask why. Why _not?_"

Jane couldn't contain a chuckle at Adelaide's ingenuity, but she shut up when Maura shot her a peeved look. "Because my rent there was paid on Mr. Fairfield's dollar, and he's left town. His money shouldn't be good here anymore."

"You said you are staying in his home, aren't you?"

"Yes, which has already been bought by his father."

Adelaide narrowed her eyes. "Your logic confuses me, but I won't press you any further. Except to say that it seems a bit odd for you to be living in that house when you would have lived there only as Mr. Fairfield's bride."

"Well until I can find a place to purchase for my own, I—"

"—should move in with Jane for the duration."

This cued Jane and Maura to burst "_What?_" in unison.

Looking enviably unruffled, Adelaide said, "Of course. Maura, everybody would understand. We love you in this town, you know. We really do. And Lord help us, we love Jane, too. I am not a fool, my dear, and I don't think you are, either. You must know that you are quite possibly the main if not the only reason Jane has stayed here so long."

"Adelaide!" Jane hollered.

Adelaide did not even dignify this by turning around, opting instead to blindly reach behind her and smack Jane's forehead with her ruler, putting a brief dent in the tender moment. "There would be nothing unusual about it, your living together. Women do it all the time! It's a necessity now and then, and what's more, it saves money. You should surround yourself with comfort and friendship, not isolate yourself away in that big house all alone."

"I have a tortoise," Maura offered weakly.

"How nice for you," Adelaide said flatly. "Does this tortoise talk?"

"No…"

"Then spend some time with someone who can. Consider it a transitional period, Maura. Garrett has left, and you don't seem to think he will be coming back. Somebody else will come along if you choose to live here, and if that's what you would like, I'm sure you will have a family of your own someday. Until then, you shouldn't be alone. Stay with Jane. Stay with your friend. See?" She finally turned, looking up at Jane's dour expression. "She wants you to. I can tell."

"Yes, it's a very charming countenance," Maura said sarcastically.

Mr. Whistler's voice came roaring suddenly into their conversation: "_Adelaide! _How much do I have to pay you to get your old ass out here when we've got female customers?"

Gasping loudly at his language, Adelaide stormed out of the tiny room, ruler in hand, leaving Jane and Maura in yet another uncomfortable silence.

Again, Maura was the one to break it. "Is it really such an awful idea, Jane?" she asked.

Stiffly putting her hands in her pockets, Jane said, "Yes, Maura, it is."

"Why?"

"You know why," Jane said in a dangerously low whisper, stepping closer so she could speak more quietly. "Maura, if you get married, I think I can stand to stay here. _Maybe_. But don't ask me to share a house with ya. Not unless…"

Maura gulped when Jane did. "Unless what?" she asked breathlessly.

Jane sighed and put her hands on Maura's shoulders, speaking so quietly that Maura had to strain her ears to pick up Jane's words. "If you lived with me, I don't think I could keep my hands off ya."

Adelaide's brash voice announced her return before she actually appeared, giving Jane the chance to step back again. The woman seemed to be quite distracted complaining about her boss, and Jane tried to slip back through the curtain to leave.

"…and honestly, if he ever would just take a—Jane, where do you think you're going?"

"What? Nowhere. I mean—what?"

"You need new measurements."

"No, I don't! You've had the same ones for years, ain't ya?"

"Exactly the point! You realize you've grown?"

"Not hardly at all."

"Enough for me to realize the trousers you insist on wearing are ever-so-slightly too short for you. Indulge me and let me take new measurements for you." Jane knew it was pointless to argue, even as she sputtered in protest as Adelaide took her arm and tugged her further back into the room. "I'll alter your clothing free of charge. This is a matter of artistic integrity, Jane. The clothes look fine on you and I'm sure they feel fine, but 'fine' is not what we aim for. We aim for perfection, and I think you could do much better."

"I—but—your assistant is out. Shouldn't we wait until Claire gets back?"

"Certainly not," Adelaide said, shoving Jane down into a chair. "You may disappear for another week by the time she returns. This is her day off. Dr. Isles will assist you."

"I will?" Maura asked.

"My dear, it's only fair; after all, Jane did it for you."

Jane and Maura exchanged a loaded glance, both of them feeling as though it had been years ago that Jane had unwillingly assisted Adelaide in measuring Maura for a pair of pants. It dawned on Maura that perhaps Jane had been just as aroused in that situation as she had, and vice versa. Would it be harder to do it now, knowing for a fact that the feeling was reciprocated?

Either way, it was unlikely Adelaide would stand for refusal.

"Well, when you put it that way," Maura said, taking off her gloves. "I suppose you have a point. Jane, you must let me return the favor."


	46. Doctor's Orders

**A/N**: I'm glad Adelaide continues to entertain. I've always intended her to be an inadvertent Rizzles shipper (hence the title of chapter 19), but I could be persuaded otherwise. I dunno. Until then, here's the newest installment.

* * *

><p>"Sit down."<p>

"No, Addie, I don't—"

"_Sit. Down._"

Having Adelaide Johns speak in that no-nonsense grandma voice while staring you in the face like the lovechild of the avenging angel and a starved vulture was considered the most threatening possible experience any Hollow Creek resident could ever expect. Jane, who had faced down several murderers, had to agree. For fear of where exactly Adelaide might try striking with that trusty ruler of hers, Jane allowed herself to be pushed down into a plushy nearby chair. As if by magic, Adelaide's grouchy death stare evaporated and was replaced with the sweetest of old lady smiles.

"Thank you for cooperating, dear. Now Maura, it was very kind of you to agree to do this, but I realize it may be considered beneath your station to do something as rudimentary as removing another woman's shoes…"

Getting down on her knees, Maura stared up at Jane but spoke to Adelaide: "Don't be silly. If it wasn't beneath Jane to do this for me, then it certainly isn't beneath me to do it for her. Besides," she added with a smirk, glancing over at Adelaide. "I reckon it isn't worth the physical harm to deny anything you ask of us."

"That's probably true," Adelaide said with a shrug. "I'm beginning to get the sense you're very much like Jane in that way. Jane would never take orders from a man or a husband (if she ever marries), but she'll cave to me every now and then. Are you that type, Maura? Do you think Mr. Fairfield would have made you more submissive?" Before giving Maura a chance to answer, Adelaide thought to add, "I'd apologize for my frankness, but I'm old, so I don't really care anymore. Life's too short for subtlety."

A laugh softened the awkwardness of the question, and Maura said, "I think I would have been lucky to marry Mr. Fairfield in the regard that he did not protest the fact that I had a career. He would never have asked anything unreasonable of me, and… now I'm afraid I hold that as an expectation for any future men who might come my way."

"And do you think other men might?" Adelaide asked, digging around in her drawer for her spectacles.

With a glance at Jane, Maura said, "If you can promise the information won't leave this room… I've had a marriage proposal of sorts already."

Jane violently stood up and Adelaide turned around, both of them asking "From who?" at the same time, though in somewhat different tones: Adelaide had a sense of delighted curiosity, while Jane had balled her hands into fists in a gesture that matched the raging jealousy in her tone. She also added, "What did you say?"

Raising her eyebrows at the volume of Jane's reaction, Maura said, "Dr. Byron asked me."

"I didn't realize you two were so close," Jane said, her heart pounding in anger—not at Maura, never at Maura; at Byron, for having the gall to swoop in when Maura was so vulnerable and when they hardly knew each other outside of professionally.

Maura put her hands on Jane's shoulders and shoved her back down into the chair. "He was very polite about it. He's moving to Colorado soon to take care of his brother's family, and he asked me if I… he asked if I would be interested in coming along with him as his wife."

"And what did you say?" Jane asked.

Adelaide chimed in, coming back with a notepad and measuring tape. "Well, that was a kind offer indeed, Maura."

"Thank you, I—"

"_What did you say to him?_"

"—agree, it was very sweet. And I said no," Maura finally answered, getting down on her knees so Jane wouldn't have to look up at her. "Of course," she added softly. Then speaking loudly enough for Adelaide to hear, she said, "I had no interest in leaving Hollow Creek or in marrying a man I wasn't in love with. I do not believe a person can 'grow' to love someone; it has to be there naturally, already. Ideally it should come before marriage, not possibly afterwards."

"Well said," Adelaide commended her with a small nod. "Now let's get to work, shall we? Remove those offensively dirty boots, if you please."

Maura looked back at Jane, her hands resting near the top of her left boot. When Jane did nothing but stare determinedly at the wall, chewing one of her fingernails, Maura softly said her name. She saw Jane's jaw tighten, but the quiet plea got her to at least make eye contact, and Maura raised her eyebrows in a tacit request for permission to continue. Jane's teeth were clenched shut behind equally tight lips, and Maura could only tell how heavily Jane was breathing because her deeply heaving chest gave her away. Ultimately Jane made some kind of grunting noise and looked away again, but as she made no other movement, Maura took it as authorization.

"Oh!" Adelaide gasped when Maura slid off the first boot. "What lovely socks! Those aren't my work—Jane, where did you get them?"

"I made them," Maura answered, earning a terse look from Jane that went unnoticed by the other woman.

"Really! Take one off and hand it to me so I can get a closer look."

Jane stepped in: "No! Adelaide, I ain't lettin' ya take one of these off!"

Looking affronted, Adelaide merely waved her hand at Jane's acidic tone and said, "Very well, have it your way. Maura, you may want to make her another pair, however—so she can _wash _those…"

"That might not be such a bad idea," Maura said with a grin, and it bolstered her slightly to observe that Jane appeared to be fighting a smile. With a little more effort, Maura tugged off the other boot, and set it down on the floor next to its twin. As she did this, she noticed Jane was kneading her hands, a gesture she had once explained was a nervous habit. _Hm… _"What shall I do next?" Maura asked, and this time Jane wasn't sure if the question had been intended for her or Adelaide.

Regardless, it was Adelaide who answered: "Jane, you can stand up now."

"All right, but I ain't gettin' undressed for ya," Jane said hurriedly, getting to her feet.

"That sounded mighty defensive to me, Jane," Adelaide teased her. "But not to worry; undressing isn't necessary at this point. You're already wearing pants, so unless you want to strip down to that union suit—"

"I don't," Jane said brusquely.

"—if it still fits. Does it still fit you? Shall we get anoth—"

"_No_," Jane said more insistently.

As was generally her custom, Adelaide went on as if Jane hadn't interrupted: "Wouldn't you like an excuse to undress? It's exceptionally warm today; aren't you hot? I am. Aren't _you_, Maura? You must be positively sweltering in that high-collared shirt of yours!"

"Uh…" Maura uneasily shot a look at Jane, and saw comprehension dawn on her features. Jane had also been wondering why Maura was wearing something so warm, and just now was realizing its intention was probably to hide the marks Jane had inadvertently left on Maura's neck the other day.

Rather than think too much about that, Jane said back to Adelaide, "I am lettin' you get new measurements for pants just to be nice to ya. Understand? Do that and you're done."

"_We're_ done, you mean," Adelaide said. "Jane, help my assistant up. Don't be a rogue."

Grumbling something under her breath that sounded very much like "old hag," Jane stiffly held out a hand to Maura, who graciously took it and allowed Jane to help pull her to her feet. "Okay?" Jane whispered when Maura stumbled a little.

Maura managed a weak smile and said, "Yes." She then took the measuring tape Adelaide had been holding out, and asked, "Waist?" After receiving a nod, Maura wrapped the tape around the appropriate spot and held it there long enough for Adelaide to record the measurement. Maura never looked away from Jane's face, waiting vainly for those big brown eyes she adored so much to meet hers. An impatient tongue-click from Adelaide told Maura she needed to move on, and she slid the tape down to Jane's hips, tugging the tape gently against Jane's ass, bringing her incrementally closer and hearing a soft, barely discernible gasp as her reward.

"Oh my," Adelaide sighed, staring down at her notepad.

"What?" Jane asked breathlessly, finally looking Maura in the eye and fearing that she wouldn't be able to look away from the expression of pure desire written all over Maura's face.

"The Sheriff was right when he said you had a scrawny ass, wasn't he?"

Well, that did it. Jane looked over at the old lady in shock and said, "Excuse me! First of all, I can't believe _you _just said 'ass'—"

Adelaide rapped Jane over the head with her ruler. "I was quoting someone. It's _allowed_ when you're quoting someone!"

"—and second of all, what the hell are you and the Sheriff doing discussing my ass?"

"I'm sure there have been worse topics of conversation," Maura offered, quietly enough that only Jane heard her.

Ignoring the blush that was creeping up to Jane's ears, Adelaide said, "I've overheard him saying it about you more than once. I imagine he meant it more as a way of getting your attention and trying to shut you up, because, Calamity Jane, you've got to admit you have a tendency to act in such a way that figures of authority should want to reprimand you."

"Aw, Korsak loves me, and he knows it," Jane said, folding her arms.

"I should think it incredibly difficult for anyone to feel otherwise," Adelaide said honestly. "Very well then, there are the hips. Now just the inseam, Maura."

"Inseam?" Jane asked warily.

"Yes, or have you forgotten that's a factor?" Adelaide asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Stand against the wall," Maura said, giving Jane a gentle push. "It'll make it easier for you to stand still."

Slightly flustered, Jane gulped hard and closed her eyes as Maura sank back down to her knees. Her leg jerked involuntarily as Maura slowly ran one hand up from the ankle to the thigh; Jane felt her body tensing and clenching all over at Maura's teasing touch, and she pressed herself as hard as possible against the wall to give her some way to ground herself. It was barely perceptible, but she felt the measuring tape flick between her legs as Maura held it there to read out the measurement and feared her knees might give out at any moment.

"Are you sure that's high enough?" Adelaide asked absently.

Maura readjusted the tape slightly, allowing her knuckles to brush against Jane's crotch, and she heard Jane hiss in protest. As Adelaide wrote down the measurement, Maura couldn't help remembering when she had last seen Jane dressed in disguise as Jake, and how she had noticed but not asked about whatever it was Jane stuck down her pants to create a manly bulge between her legs. At this moment Jane was also thinking of Jake, trying not to recall the many other times women had been in this position in front of him for one reason or another, always fixated on the spot Maura was currently staring at shamelessly.

"Addie," Jane said through her teeth. "Do ya think you could give me and the doc a second, here?"

"Why, of course," Adelaide said. "I need to speak with Mr. Whistler about putting in an order for more denim, anyway."

The moment she had ducked behind the curtain and out of sight, Jane yanked Maura up by the shoulders. "What the hell are you doing?" Jane asked in a dark whisper.

"Helping you get measured for new pants," Maura said innocently. "I was starting to realize that you and Jake Wyatt may be slightly different sizes."

"I agreed to let ya see me," Jane said harshly. "I didn't say ya could go around groping me in front of other people."

"Are you telling me you didn't enjoy that?" Maura asked.

Jane looked momentarily stymied. "That ain't the point," she said gruffly.

"_Ain't _it exactly the point?" Maura shot back.

"We gotta leave," Jane said, stepping away slightly. "We gotta talk, and we can't talk here. Addie could be back any second." She took Maura's hand and jerked the curtain back, stalking through it. "Adelaide!" she said in a loud voice. "If you're done, we're takin' off!"

"To discuss living arrangements, I hope?"

"None of your damn business, old lady," Jane said. There was an exasperated sort of affection in her tone, but that didn't stop Adelaide from throwing her ruler at Jane's departing figure and hitting her square in the back.

Once they were safely outside, Maura asked, "Where exactly were you thinking of going?"

Before Jane could reply, Korsak came walking up out of nowhere and called out to her. "Jane!"

"You back already, old man? Grant said it'd be an hour."

"Well, he was wrong. Got a minute?"

"I need to talk to Maura," Jane said gruffly.

Korsak's tone remained jovial as he gently took Jane's arm. "I'm sure it can wait."

"No, Korsak. It can't."

"This is important."

"So is she. I mean, so is this!"

"Dr. Isles, you don't mind if I borrow Jane for just a second, do you?" Korsak asked, targeting the weaker of the two. "I promise to have her right back, so help me God."

Faltering slightly under Jane's glare, Maura said, "Well—if you're fast, then… yes, Sheriff. I'll just wait here."

"Perfect!" Korsak said cheerfully, walking down the steps of the porch with Jane. "We'll be right back." Rather than drag her all the way to his office, Korsak merely led the way around to the side of the tailor's building, where no one else could overhear them. "Cool your heels there, Calamity, you're not in trouble."

"Course I'm not," Jane grumbled, pulling her arm out of Korsak's loose grip. "But you wanna tell me what this is all about?"

"Well as you're so antsy, I reckon I will," Korsak said, wishing Jane were in a better mood. He knew better to ask what was going on, so he just got right to it: "You know Hoyt attacked Green Forge's Sheriff and one of his deputies in order to free his apprentice. Dr. Callahan was unable to save the Sheriff, but he managed to save Deputy Wilkins, who is now Sheriff Wilkins in Green Forge."

"Fantastic! Let's throw him a party sometime," Jane snorted, kicking at a rock. "What's this got to do with me, Korsak?"

"Shut your yap for a second, and I'll get to it," Korsak said tersely. "Wilkins needs another deputy and asked if I could recommend anybody." His tone got Jane's attention, and she furrowed her brow, waiting for more. It was not quite what she expected when he explained, "I'm sending him Joseph Grant."

Jane wasn't sure why on earth she thought Korsak had been about to say he'd send her instead. Maybe he thought it was nice to send away a man he knew drove her crazy, and in its own way, yes, it was a nice gesture. Why would he send a woman to go be another town's deputy, anyway? She hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and looked at the ground, sounding severely less annoyed when she spoke again. "Oh. You gettin' rid of him for me, Korsak?"

"Eh, sort of. He was startin' to get on my nerves, too, though." That got Jane to chuckle a bit, and Korsak felt a little heartened. "So anyhow, he'll be leavin' soon, and I reckon I need a new deputy. I thought I might consider Frankie, because he asked me about it a while back, but… I think maybe I'll make a _junior _deputy outta him. Get his feet wet first."

"So who's replacing Grant?" Jane asked.

"Well Jane, the spot's yours if you want it."

Jane felt her heart leap. "What?"

"Sure. I know it don't seem like much since the town ain't very big, but your duties don't stop here, y'know. We'd get messages from all the way up to Powell County asking for back-up, or asking for help solving some sort of crime. I'd send you out whenever you had an itch to go. And furthermore, I was working with the former Sheriff of Green Forge, trying to come up with a formal agreement to split the land between our towns and really build it up. You could oversee that too, if you wanted. Now Jane," he said when he saw tears sprouting up in her eyes. "Don't you cry on me. I'm pickin' you for this job based solely on your help all these years in bringing down some of the biggest criminals we got out here in the West. You're brilliant at it, but I don't want you to be in disguise anymore. But there won't be no hard feelings if you want to turn this down. Or, we can work out whatever sort of arrangement you want. I just want you to stay here. I'm biased that way, I guess."

That was where the conversation had to end, because Jane was unable to keep herself from throwing her arms around Korsak and hugging him tightly, effectively causing him to lose track of anything else he might have said. He was thrown off even more when Jane whispered "thanks, Pop," into his ear before pulling back.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, blinking back unexpected tears.

"Gimme a day to think about it?" Jane offered, and Korsak nodded. "Great. Thanks. Say, could I take your boat out for a while?"

"Oh—sure, uh…where are thinkin' on going?"

"Not sure yet," Jane said, clapping him on the shoulder before walking back around to the front of the tailor's, where Maura was still anxiously waiting. Clearly in much better spirits, Jane took Maura's hand again and led her down the road which ultimately led to the lake.

When Jane didn't offer any information about what had caused her sudden and very obvious mood change, Maura asked, "What did the Sheriff want to talk to you about?"

Looking around to make sure no one was around, Jane couldn't keep a smile off her face as she answered: "He offered me a job."

"A job? Doing what?"

"He wants me to be his deputy."

"He does?"

Jane glanced over at the surprised and not totally supportive tone of Maura's voice. "Yeah. Ain't that somethin'?"

"Did you accept?"

"Well, I told him I had to think about it still…"

"Is that something you want to do? I mean, I thought you were giving that all up—chasing criminals and having to… inflict pain on other people."

"But Maura, I'll be on the real side of the law this time. And I won't be doin' anything half so dangerous as I did when I was Jake. It's legitimate this time."

"You'll still be in danger, though," Maura protested. "I mean, look what happened to the deputy in Green Forge—what if something like that happens to you?"

Jane had to laugh at that one. "Maura, what else could I do? I'm used to fightin' for my life when it comes down to it. I'd go crazy if I had to settle for somethin' less exciting. I mean, what'd you expect? Hoyt goes down and I become, I dunno, Adelaide's assistant?"

The mention of Adelaide reminded both women of what had happened just minutes earlier, and in particular reminded Jane why she was trying to get Maura out of town. This recollection definitely put a bit of a damper on Jane's high spirits, but she did not release Maura's hand until they had reached the lake. They both remained silent as Jane helped Maura into Korsak's boat before shoving off and taking to the oars.

Maura wasn't sure where they were going, but didn't feel the need to ask. Jane just wanted to go someplace she was sure they could be alone and not overheard or interrupted, and she hadn't fancied going back to Fairfield's house. Neither of them spoke as she rowed, which was fine with Maura, because she was busy just watching Jane anyway. She instantly remembered being on this very lake the second day she had known Jane, watching from afar as she rowed this very boat. But the act of watching Jane do this had gone beyond arousing just Maura's interest. The heat of the sinking sun really was starting to get to her as she sat directly in front of Jane, not two feet away as the woman rowed, muscles visibly straining and breath (strangely) attractively labored.

"Jane," Maura whispered. Jane looked up and was again startled by the look on Maura's face. It was clear Maura felt she no longer needed to try and hide her desire or explain it away: everything was in the open between them, and she could stare as much as she wanted. "You're gorgeous," she finished.

With a nervous laugh, Jane said, "I reckon I look a real mess right now. You ain't right in the head."

"If I'm not, I don't want to be."

That was the kind of talk that made Jane glad they were getting away to discuss things. The rowing was getting too strenuous for her to talk much more, so the rest of the ride was overtaken by an uncomfortable silence. It was perhaps half an hour before they docked in a tiny alcove nearer to Wohaw Springs than the Creek. Jane reached into the water and splashed a handful of it on her face, wiping her hands on her trousers before helping Maura out of the boat.

"Where are we?" Maura asked, following Jane up a nearby slope.

"Ain't got a name, so far as I know," Jane said. "But I used to come here when I was a kid and I wanted to be alone. All the time I ever been here, I only ever seen somebody once, and it was an Indian from Wohaw Springs. If you sit at the top of this hill here, you can see all around. You can see if someone's comin'. I ain't ever brought anyone here before, Maura."

Smoothing out her dress, Maura sat down on the grass once Jane seemed content they were entirely alone. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or worried that you brought me here, then."

Jane paced around a bit before sitting cross-legged next to Maura. "I ain't so sure, neither. I mean—sorry. I wanted us to be alone someplace, so we could talk this out without anyone listenin' in or comin' in unexpectedly. I knew this was the only place we could really do that. But now we're here, I'm thinkin' maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Now we're alone, all I wanna do is kiss ya."

"You've always struck me as the type who takes what she wants," Maura said casually, folding one leg over the other. "What's stopping you now?"

"Dammit, Maura, you know what," Jane mumbled, staring down at her lap.

"I'm not sure I do. I'd love for you to explain it to me."

"What the hell _is _this?" Jane asked softly, nervously, waving a hand between herself and Maura. "What d'you call it?"

Maura stared at Jane a long time before answering. "I can only speak for myself," she sighed, "but I think you call it 'love.' I love you, Jane. I've told you that. And you allegedly feel the same way."

"I do, Maura, I love you," Jane said fervently, taking Maura's hand between her own. "That's what I'm tryin' to make you see. You couldn't be happy with me. I'd ruin everything."

"Why do you say that?" Maura asked patiently.

Jane sighed heavily. "Because I don't ever do nothin' right. Look at me."

"I am. Do you want to know what I see, Jane?"

Sounding nervous, Jane rubbed her hands together. "I dunno. Do I?"

"I see a woman who's suffered hard times. She's had a harder life than I ever could imagine. Rather than turn her back on the world, she turned her difficult experiences into opportunities to learn, to grow, to become educated in unconventional ways. At great personal risk and in some cases great personal loss, she vowed to avenge her parents and valiantly did so. I see a woman who always does her best to do the right thing, to sacrifice for others. And I also see…" At some point Maura would wonder how many tears she had shed because of Jane; she was starting to tear up again, and knew it would be useless to try and resist them. "I see the woman who has so effortlessly and completely stolen my heart. It belongs to her and no one else. What I don't see is why, when she has proven so selfless in the past, she would call me her greatest friend and then deny me the one thing that could bring eternal bliss into my life."

Jane could not hold herself back any longer. She whispered Maura's name and somehow the single word sounded like a prayer, a promise. Maura reached for Jane's vest and Jane leaned in closer, kissing Maura as tenderly as she could. Already she had forgotten how soft those lips were, how eager they were to mesh with hers. Jane broke off the kiss for a shaky breath, but did not allow herself time to think before leaning in once more and claiming another kiss. Maura reached one hand up behind Jane's neck and pulled her closer, starting to lean back against the grass to pull Jane down on top of her.

"Wait," Jane breathed, hovering over her.

"For what?" Maura asked, choking on her tears in this position. "Jane, I feel so safe with you. So protected. What will it take for you to feel the same?"

"I _do_ feel that," Jane insisted. "And a thousand other things."

"You don't trust me," Maura whispered.

"How can you say that?"

Getting annoyed, Maura shifted to sit up, and Jane hurriedly got out of her way. "How can _you _say _that?_" Maura responded. "I've told you more than once that I don't care. I want to be with you in every way a person can be with another person. I don't want or expect anything else or anything more."

"You say that now," Jane said, "but what happens in a month, a year, three years? I can't give ya kids, I can't give you anything like the security Fairfield could've given ya, and I can't give you any status in society but 'old maid.'"

"This is what I mean when I say you don't trust me! I have already acknowledged, Jane, that I would be giving up so much of what I expected if you and I were to ride out this relationship. Some people would say I'm giving up everything, but I'm not. I'm _gaining_ everything. You are more important to me than anything else in the world, and I wish you would _see _that! You promised, Jane. You said if you were a man, you would marry me."

"And I would! But I'm not, so I can't! Hell, Maura, I'd give my right leg to be a man so I could marry ya and have what it takes to give you kids and give you a husband, but wishes like that don't come true. They just don't!"

"All right Jane, don't marry me. What about Jake? Why can't he?"

Jane felt her jaw drop and she stared for several long moments at Maura's yearning expression. At this suggestion, her chest had constricted; she felt dizzy. "I thought you said you couldn't lie," she finally got out.

"I can't, but I wouldn't be. If nobody asked outright—"

"Then _I'd _have to lie for ya," Jane cut in. "And Maura, it don't feel right lyin' to a priest." This was a point Maura clearly hadn't thought through, as evidenced by the look of shame passing over her. It was fairly made, and she had to concede. Jane continued: "Besides, if we did that, we'd have to move. And I don't wanna leave here anymore, Maura. I got the feeling you wanted to stay, too."

"Byron asked if I'd take over," Maura laughed weakly. "Since he's leaving. I'd be the town's doctor."

"Then we both have every reason to stay," Jane said.

"Well—Jane, what happens if somebody else becomes interested in me?" Maura asked. "Are you going to flare up like you did at Adelaide's today? Good heavens, you practically gave us away to her! Will you be able to control your emotions?"

"How did this become about me all of a sudden? Yes, I can control my emotions. I'll get better at it. I just don't—I don't like…"

"_What_, Jane, what? You have to talk to me. You have to tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't like the thought of anyone having his hands on you but me," Jane said in a rushed voice. "You want me to tell you what I'm thinking? There you are. I want you. I'm scared as hell about it, but I love you. And I—I really am scared, Maura. I don't understand it. I think I've always been this way."

"What way?" Maura asked, puzzled.

Jane pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, rocking nervously for a moment before answering. "I dunno, maybe it's only since I've been Jake, but that's been for about half my life. The later half, too. The half where you start thinkin' about love and bein' with somebody else. I noticed …I've noticed things. Especially when I'm around you. Like today, when you were… when your hands were, y'know… there." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maura nod in understanding. "It's like a—heartbeat. And sometimes when I'd get undressed, I saw somethin' there, almost like I'd soiled myself when I knew I hadn't. What's it mean?" she asked, her voice nothing more than nervous whisper as she looked over at Maura.

"I've felt that, too," Maura admitted, relieved to hear it was not a symptom unique to her. "And if my hypothesizing is correct, it is your body's way of letting you know you are attracted to me physically. The moments where it's happened to me were times when I was kissing you, or… when I wanted to kiss you, badly." She snorted and looked back out at the lake. "For instance, when Jake was getting a little handsy at the tavern."

"I'm sorry for doing that to you," Jane said. "It was crass and outta line."

"But in character. For Jake, I mean."

"Well…Maura, I've felt it before though," Jane said. "Before you. When other women would try and—do things to me. When I was in disguise, I mean. I guess my body was reacting to them, too, but I didn't know it. All I knew was that I didn't want to do anything with 'em."

"Have you ever kissed one of them?" Maura asked, feeling irrationally jealous towards these women who were presumably far in Jane's past.

"No," Jane answered softly. "Lots have tried, and one kissed me here," she said, pointing to her neck, "but I didn't let her get no further than that. You're the only woman whose lips I've ever really wanted to kiss. You were the first and I want you to be the last."

Maura reached for Jane's hand, gripping it tightly. "And I want to be your last," she said thickly. "Please. Whatever this is between us, Jane, I don't want to dismiss it. It's more than just our bodies speaking to us, telling us what to do. It's more than a simple desire to feed a hunger we're only just realizing we have. This? This is what some people can only dream of."

"What, bein' outcasts?" Jane scoffed. "Never gettin' married, never having kids? Is that what you dreamed of, Maura?"

"Not that exactly, no," Maura said patiently. "But we wouldn't be outcasts. Not here. My mother, Adelaide, they're right: we have the luxury of living together without drawing suspicion, Jane. Nobody would have to know what we do when we're alone. Yes, I grew up dreaming of my own family and having a stable relationship with a father to my children, but you said it yourself—dreams change. For a while now it's just been my dream to be with somebody who loves me, who respects me, who cares about my happiness more than their own success. I know that's you, and I know I'm blessed to have found you. That's what I see when I look at you." She caressed Jane's cheek with her hand, lowering her voice and moving closer. Essentially returning Jane's old words back to her, Maura whispered, "You are my new dream."

Nothing and nobody could reduce Jane Rizzoli to a mushy puddle of tears quite as quickly and effectively as Maura Isles. It was with a light sob that Jane reached for her, pulling Maura into a long embrace, whispering apologies into her ear and kissing her hair. Maura wasn't even entirely sure what Jane was apologizing for, but she didn't care: she could feel Jane's resistance ebbing away.

Not breaking their embrace, Maura said, "You made me a promise, Jane. You promised you would do what it took for my happiness. You promised that if I asked, you would stay with me here. I'm asking you, Jane. I'm begging you. _Please_."

Jane tightened her grip and shuddered. "You made a promise too, Maura. You promised me you would think about this. You've only had a day! You need more time!"

Maura pulled herself out of Jane's arms, looking her determinedly in the eye. "Hear this," she said steadfastly. "I know you're saying all of this because you are thinking of me and my happiness. You think you're making it easier for me by trying to make yourself scarce, by taking off. Jane, that is the _one _thing you could do to ensure that I am absolutely miserable for the rest of my days."

"You're still too close to it," Jane persisted. "I wanna do right by you, Maura, and you're not lettin' me."

"Do right by me and stay. That's all you can do."

"You need time—I know you don't think it now, but you do. If you don't think that's true, please, Maura, lie to me." Jane made a vain swipe at her eyes to try and stem the flow of tears. "Just lie to me."

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli. I was willing to wait almost _six years _for Garrett. Not only to marry him, but to kiss him. Six years." She let that sink in before going on: "I worry for not only my happiness but my sanity if you make me wait another _day_ for you. And that is not a lie."

Her proclamation was met by more tears, but all Maura wanted was some kind of response, an acknowledgement. After what may well have been a full minute of waiting, she got it.

Jane embraced her once more, kissing her without restrain. This time when Maura allowed herself to fall back on the grass, Jane pulled back just enough to whisper another apology and "I trust you" before kissing her again.


	47. Not Without You

When Maura had been a young girl, her desire to learn had been insatiable. She would ask questions endlessly about the smallest things, just for the sake of learning. If her mother referenced an artist Maura didn't know, she would ask about him. If her father used a word she had never encountered, she would ask for the definition.

This was how she had discovered the word "involuntary," and its relation to the human body. Her father explained that some of the body's impulses were automatic and, unless a person was ill, could only be stopped by conscious effort. Blinking and breathing were the examples he gave her, and Maura remembered being fascinated by the realization that the body would do whatever it took to get air to the lungs in even the most dire of situations. Most of the time, you didn't even have to worry about the act of breathing: your body just did it for you.

In short she had no idea how on earth she breathed during the next few minutes of Jane kissing her on that secluded hill, because it was certainly far from conscious. For all she knew, she _had _stopped breathing. All she could concentrate on was the fact that Jane was on top of her, kissing her deeply, holding her tightly. There was a blissful sense of carelessness to the way Jane was kissing her, uncalculated and too wrapped up in it all to be as careful, as soft, as she might have liked to be. Maura's fingers were twisted in Jane's hair, keeping her close and loving the feeling of Jane's rough curls in her own smooth hands. Jane, for her part, had no idea what to do with her hands and was starting to feel a little self-conscious about it.

It was twilight time, and when Jane pulled up for breath, she could still see Maura's face clearly. The actual expression, though, was still hard to read.

"Show me," Maura gasped between heavy breaths.

"Show you what?" Jane asked nervously.

Maura gulped down some much needed air, enough to give her the strength to flip them both over so that she was now on top. She leaned down and some stray strands of hair tickled Jane's face. "Show me," she whispered, "that you can give yourself over to this." She kissed Jane's forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheek. "Show me you can accept not being in control all the time." Her lips grazed against Jane's, and Jane compulsorily craned her neck upwards in an attempt for a real kiss, but Maura pulled back again, looking Jane in the eye. "_Show me _you can trust me enough to know I want this from you."

Jane lifted her hands to cradle Maura's head, pushing some of those thick strands of hair behind her ears. "If that's what it'll take to prove myself," she whispered. "Then I will."

Satisfied, Maura took Jane's hands and moved them just below her waist, where they grabbed two fistfuls of Maura's skirt. Together they lifted the garment upwards as Maura initiated another kiss, which Jane sighed into dreamily. Maura wanted this, she wanted her. It was right and it was real.

The skirt had been lifted up to Maura's hips, and she shifted slightly try and find the least awkward positioning for her legs. As she did this, her hot and labored breath broke against the sweat on Jane's face, and Jane fought to keep her eyes open as she whispered, "Maura. Do you…"

"Yes?" Maura whispered back.

"About before. I… would do anything for you, you know that? I just wanted ya to really give this thought. I know you're a smart woman and all, smarter than me. It's not that I didn't trust ya, it's just that I…"

"Jane, you're talking too much," Maura said in as patient a tone as she could muster.

Jane managed a weak smile. "Okay, here's the short version: I want to do whatever it takes to make and keep you happy."

"Well, you're going in the right direction," Maura said with a catlike grin. "Now shall we keep going in it?"

Jane got the impression that was an invitation to get a little more intimate, but all she did was reach up and cup Maura's cheek. A grin slowly made its way onto her face as she watched Maura's own expression soften into a gentle smile. She took hold of Jane's extended forearm and idly rubbed it. "You're all right, though?" Jane pressed quietly.

A light blush colored Maura's cheeks, but the sun had gone down enough that Jane couldn't see it. "I suppose I find it a little unnerving how much I'd like to continue what we were doing... with less clothes."

"Dr. Isles!" Jane laughed, sitting up and consequently forcing Maura to do the same. "That's a very forward thing for a lady to suggest!"

"You said it first, the other night," Maura protested, and when Jane looked confused, Maura explained, "'I just want to feel you.' You told me that. And Jane, I want that, too. How we were just ...are you afraid?"

"No, I ain't afraid. I really liked it," she said, sounding surprised. "I liked bein' under you. But I don't aim on lettin' it happen again soon."

"You always have to be the one making a conquest, don't you?" Maura teased, reaching for Jane and leaning back on the grass again and pulling Jane with her.

But Jane resisted, sitting up and bringing Maura into a sitting position as well. "Maura, that ain't what I meant. It ain't nothin' to get worried about, though!" she hurriedly added, seeing a tense, concerned look cover Maura's face. "I just want a chance to explain myself to ya."

Starting to sound a little tired, Maura said, "Jane, I think you've explained enough."

"No, I haven't. I trust you, Maura, and I want ya to know that you can trust _me_, too. I meant what I said when I told ya that if you wanted me, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me." She smiled encouragingly and Maura returned it when Jane rested one hand against her cheek again. "I didn't mean to torture ya. You got it all in your head, the consequences of this. And you're all right with it. You want it. Some people would call ya crazy, you know that?"

"That would be nothing new," Maura said with a rueful chuckle.

"I've always been good at runnin'," Jane said. "Ask my brothers or Angela. But you made me wanna stop. You made me wanna stay. I ain't leavin' ever again. My only wish is that dream I told ya about—to make you happy. Always. Whatever it takes."

"It'll just take you," Maura said, her voice trembling.

Jane gave her a short kiss, then clasped both of Maura's hands between her own and got on one knee. She moved a little lower on the hill so that she was beneath Maura (who was still sitting), looking up at her. "Maura, it wasn't ever my intention that you should beg. I _do _fight for what I want, and all I want is your happiness. It'd be even better if I could be the _reason _for your happiness, but I got caught up thinkin' of everything I couldn't ever offer ya. I guess if I really think about it, there ain't anyone who'd ever be good enough for ya in my opinion. But I thought maybe if I left, you could find a man who'd give you everything. A family. Good standing in society, all that."

"Jane, I—"

"No, no, let me finish," Jane stammered, gripping Maura's hands tighter. "If I don't say this now, I won't ever get it out. Maura, I'm sorry you thought I didn't believe ya. I do. I promised I wouldn't ever leave ya if you didn't want me to, and I won't. I will not _ever _leave you. That is a promise. And that means something to me, all right? Jake Wyatt broke promises. Jane Johnson didn't always keep her word. But Jane Rizzoli keeps promises. Always. And this is the most important one I will ever make.

"I promise not to let you down. I promise to be here, like you've been here for me. I promise to not ever make you worry that I'll leave, that I'll get scared and walk out. I promise to listen to you, not try and put ideas in your head. I promise to trust that you know yourself and what's best for ya, and if you think that's me…" Jane gave a weak, shuddering laugh. "I should be on my knees thankin' God that you think so. I ain't even known you a year yet, but I know more than I've ever known anything that you are the love of my life and I wanna spend the rest of my days with you. Please. Maura, I can't ask ya to marry me, so I don't know just exactly what this is. I guess what I'm tryin' to ask is if you'd share your life, your future with me. I know I ain't always polite as I should be, or clean or patient or nice, but I love you so much it hurts."

Maura found it surprising that while she was typically quite loquacious, at this moment she could find no words to explain what she felt, even enough to answer. In lieu of speech, she reached down and pulled Jane into an impassioned kiss, tears predictably streaming down her face. Jane wrapped her arms around her, still somewhat in shock that this brilliant, beautiful woman wanted to be hers.

"I don't care what it is or what you call it," Maura breathed, kissing Jane's cheek and then her lips again. "I'm saying 'yes,' Jane, and I always will."

"No priest, no license," Jane murmured. "But I want to do this as right as I can by you, Maura. I only ever been to two weddings, so I know the priest does most of the talkin'. But you and I should do somethin'. Somethin' nice, somethin' that feels formal, y'know?"

"Exchange vows, you mean?" Maura asked with a smile.

"Yes!...what're those?"

"A vow is like a promise, only stronger. It's more of a pledge, you might say. An oath."

"Oh, an oath! Yeah, I can do that. We make 'em up ourselves, then?"

"Yes. You sort of recited your own just now, you know."

"What? That wasn't no vow. It was a…"

"Proposal?" Maura suggested.

Jane grinned shyly, stretching her legs out. "I guess that's sorta what it was, wasn't it? How'd I do?"

Maura offered a small kiss. "Perfectly."

"All right, I got a question for ya. There's a house, I don't know if you ever noticed it, by the corral. Well, I guess it's a little closer to the road to Green Forge. None too big, but it's all right."

"Yes, I think I've seen it when I've gone riding. Whose is it?"

"Ain't nobody's now," Jane said, thoughtlessly plucking up small handfuls of grass. "Used to be Korsak's, but he ain't lived in it since before I was born. I think I could get him to sell it to me, and we could …we could live there. Y'know, Tommy and Frankie still share our old house, and you've seen it. It ain't fit for a lady like you. And besides, I wouldn't want 'em livin' with…"

"Us?" Maura asked eagerly.

Laughing gently at the excitement in Maura's tone, Jane took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Us. I wanna fix this house up for ya, Maura. For both of us. Korsak's kept it in pretty good shape, far as I can tell. Didn't want an eyesore to be the first thing people saw when they're ridin' in from Green Forge, you know. Inside's probably a bit of a mess, though. But I figure with some paintin' and hammerin' around, it oughtta clean up pretty nice."

"Will you let me help?" Maura asked. "After all, I'm pretty good with paint myself. I've always wanted to build a house, actually."

"Really?" Jane laughed.

"Yes! My father's house in Boston wasn't particularly homey—it needed more of a feminine touch, I think, but I never seemed to have the time to go about doing it."

"That's probably 'cause you were travelin' around so much, huh? Fixin' up a house don't take too much time. At least, not if we do it together and maybe get some help from Tommy and Frankie."

Maura's cheeks were starting to get sore from all the smiling, but she couldn't help it. She looped her arm through Jane's and rested her head on her shoulder, both of them looking out over the lake. "That sounds wonderful, Jane." She sighed deeply in contentment, squeezing Jane's arm a little more tightly. "I wish I could take your name."

Jane tilted her head thoughtfully, and in an exaggerated Italian accent, said, "Hm. Maura Rizzoli." She could feel Maura shaking with repressed laughter. "Sounds pretty good, huh?"

"Oh, it's lovely. I don't mind keeping my father's name, though. I was almost sad at the thought of losing it to 'Fairfield.'"

"Hm…Maura Fairfield." The words even tasted bad on her tongue. "Nope." Bringing back the exaggerated accent for Maura's amusement, she added, "That's-a not so good."

"Ooh, Jane, say something in real Italian, please."

"What d'you want me to say?"

"Oh, anything." A long pause indicated Jane was having trouble coming up with an idea, and Maura said, "My father used to tell me a joke my mother liked to play on some of the ladies in Boston when she still lived there. Apparently she did it once in my presence, but I was too young to remember it. Plenty of girls learned how to speak French, but there were just as many ladies who had never learned and they were always asking my mother to demonstrate some of her French. She got so tired of it that she just started counting to ten in French, but she would break up the cadence so it wouldn't sound like she was counting. And then they would ask what it meant, and she would just say 'oh, it doesn't quite translate to English.'"

They shared a good laugh at that, and Jane finally said, "I'm guessing you'd know if I was just countin', though. I'm havin' trouble thinkin' straight right now." She turned her head to look at Maura, then whispered in a seductively low voice, "Maura. _Cara mia._"

Maura moaned softly when Jane left a kiss behind her ear, progressing a trail of kisses down her neck to her shoulder.

"You're in, Maura?" Jane whispered, coming back up for air and to see Maura's glistening eyes.

"All in, Jane," she replied, putting her arms around Jane's neck.

"Then so am I. Let's agree to start this right. I wanna make that house fit to live in before I take you there." And by "take you," the implication of all-bared intimacy was tacitly communicated and understood. Jane continued: "That's what any respectable man aimin' to be your husband would do, and I don't aim to act any different. Agreed?"

"Yes."

"So we'll fix it up… maybe just enough to live in," Jane said, crossing her legs and looking a little guilty. "We can worry about it bein' real homey until after."

"After what?" Maura asked with a teasing grin.

"We do that vow thing you were talkin' about. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Will ya shake on that?"

Maura laughed at Jane's joking formality, then quickly feigned a solemn expression as she shook Jane's hand. "It's a deal."

Beaming, Jane scooped Maura up in her arms like a groom preparing to carry his bride over the threshold. As she headed back down to the lake, she said, "You may be just about the loveliest creature I've ever made a deal with. You're too good for me."

"I am, aren't I?" Maura said with a fake loftiness. "Carrying me is a good start to make up for it, though. You wore me out up there."

"You wore yourself out," Jane chuckled.

"Mm. Regardless, I'm rather warm and tired. Even hot, actually—"

With that, Jane promptly dropped Maura into the lake.

"JANE!"

"You said you were hot!"

Terror had enveloped Maura for only a moment, due to the surprise of the drop and the fact that she couldn't swim. But the water was shallow and she was able (with a bit of effort) to stand, and when Jane made the foolish move of extending a hand to help her out, Maura yanked on it to pull Jane into the water with her. It was surprisingly cold, but that didn't stop Jane from laughing out loud, shaking her hair out of its loose tie and rubbing the water out of her eyes. Maura was laughing as well, smacking the water to splash some of it at Jane, and a small splashing fight ensued which quickly turned into an impromptu kissing session.

They had moved a little more in the direction of deeper water so they were half-submerged, and for the first time ever, Maura felt the sensation of seeming weightlessness. She wrapped her legs around Jane's thin waist and Jane held her up effortlessly, maintaining a very long and very wet kiss that ended only when Jane lost her footing and fell back into the water. Maura only barely managed to stay above level, pulling Jane back up, and they clambered back to their borrowed little rowboat.

"Well, that was certainly refreshing," Maura remarked as Jane cast them off and she wrung her hair out.

"Yeah, I ain't thrashed around like that in a while," Jane chuckled. "Felt good."

When their laughter died out, silence took over as they tried to catch their breath. It took a while, but as it did, Maura felt ready to change the subject to something that might not be as light-hearted. "Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Ask me anything."

"Would it be thoughtless of me to… well, I just think that if I… if I'm to share the future with you, I'd really like to know a bit more about—"

"My past?" Jane guessed.

"Only things you'd feel comfortable sharing."

"Well, Maura, I don't usually like to talk, but… that past's a part of who I am, and you make up a lot of who I am, too. Don't seem right to keep ya separated. It ain't so hard talkin' to you, I guess. At least, it ain't 'cause I know you're only askin' for the right reasons. What d'you want to know?"

"Lots of things, I suppose. I don't think I could even come up with them right now."

"To be honest, the sooner you do I think it'd be better."

"They're not even that significant, most of them. For instance, how'd you come up with 'Wyatt?' I know you said you chose 'Jake' because it's so similar to your real name, but what about the other?"

Jane grunted and laughed as she pulled back on the oars. "That's actually kind of a joke, I guess. I first started goin' by that name when I was still a kid. Seventeen. Didn't really have time to think of a good, original name, and besides, I figured I'd change it at some point. But Jake Wyatt just kinda stuck. Do you remember that horror of teacher I told ya about? Miss Dolores?"

"The one who used to make you write lines? Oh, yes."

"Well, when I'd be doin' those lines, it was just me and her in the schoolhouse most of the time. But other times there'd be another kid there in trouble, and she didn't want us talkin' to each other. The other kids were scared enough to listen, but I always wanted to talk! It got boring otherwise, y'know? So she'd be sittin' at her desk and she'd hear me yappin' my mouth off in what I thought was a whisper, and she'd say _'Jane, quiet!'_ Over and over again. Never told me to shut up or _be _quiet, it was always just 'Jane, quiet.' I almost just got used to it bein' my other name, I heard it so much."

"Jane—quiet," Maura tried.

"Yeah, but she'd say it in a real fast voice, so the end of my name kinda disappeared."

"Ja—quiet," Maura said, dropping the emphasis. "Oh! Jane, that's very clever."

"It's very lazy," Jane snorted. "Sometimes I wondered if any of those kids who ever did lines with me noticed that's what my name sounded like, but I ain't worried." She sighed and there was quietness for another brief spell as she rowed them closer to home. "Yknow, I always kinda thought if I ever got rid of Hoyt, I'd miss Jake. How he made me feel, I mean—powerful. In control. Intimidating. But I don't miss him. Not at all."

Sounding hopeful, Maura asked, "You don't?"

Jane shook her head. "I'm glad you didn't know me as a kid, Maura. Little Jane Rizzoli was a right rascal, but didn't ever get anything done with it. I let fear rule my life. I was scared as hell that Hoyt would come back for me, so before I decided to go out and find him myself, I never slept 'cause I thought it'd be like the first night he found me—I'd wake up by his campfire alone. Angela loved me and Korsak was good to me, but a lot of ladies in town avoided me like I was a disease. Most of 'em are gone now, but back then, they sure knew how to make a little girl feel like the worst thing in the world."

"Why?" Maura whispered sadly.

"I didn't dress nice. I didn't talk nice. I didn't swoon or like to go to dances. And I was proud, so I didn't ever let anyone know it, but they got to me. I didn't feel like I… belonged, y'know? Jake belonged everywhere. He talked, people listened. He acted, they got out of his way. He didn't have nothin' to be afraid of or no reason to feel bad about himself. And it all… when you and I kissed, when we slept in that bed together and then woke up to the real world, it all came back. That old Rizzoli feelin' that I wouldn't ever be good enough for ya, or what ya deserved."

"Oh, Jane," Maura said softly, reaching out to touch her knee.

"I shoulda let you be the judge of that," Jane said stoically. "Because you're the one who made me feel like I could belong. As me, as Jane Rizzoli, not Jake Wyatt."

"Jane, I hope you weren't offended earlier…when I asked if Jake could marry me. I was just so desperate to find a way for you to make this work in a way that you felt could be honorable, and you got there on your own. I always have been and always will be _yours_, Jane Rizzoli, not Jake's."

"I know," Jane said quietly with a small smile. "It don't matter if I dressed like him or went by his name. You'd always know who I was."

"And you'll be happy?" Maura asked. "You and your family speak so much of how deeply you've loved the freedom of traveling. You are accustomed to getting up and going where and when you please, because that's what brings you pleasure. If Hollow Creek is too small for you, I don't think we should—"

Jane stopped rowing and reached for both of Maura's hands. It had gotten dark enough that were it not for the moonlight which had just peeked out from behind a cloud, Jane wouldn't have been able to make out Maura's face very well. She managed to see it enough when she said, "Maura, that used to be true. That was my past—goin' all over the country. It was exciting, it was new, it was different. But I did it all to catch Hoyt. At the end of the day, I often wished I could just come home and stay here. Now, it's up to you. You want to travel, we'll travel. You wanna stay, we'll stay. As long as we're together, no matter what you choose, I will be so happy not even your mother could paint a picture to describe it."

Maura laughed weakly, gripping Jane's hands tight. "You're sure, Jane?"

"Absolutely. My world is where you are."


	48. Come On To My House

**A/N**: Long chapter to make up for the break between updates. Also I think there's a _Wizard of Oz _reference in here because I just watched it and cried about thirty times. That's not to mention a shout-out to Doris Day's _Calamity Jane _as well. And a certain '50s sitcom.

* * *

><p>Darkness had fallen completely around them by the time Jane and Maura made it back to town. Being out this late didn't worry Maura like it used to, especially not when Jane had one arm hooked protectively through hers, keeping her close and safe. For the night she would be returning to Garrett's house, as that's where all her belongings still were and there didn't seem to be any sense in moving her at this hour. They ran into nobody on the street except a couple of snoozing drunks and stray dogs. At some point Jane started whistling quietly, and Maura tried in vain to place the tune.<p>

"What song is that?" she asked.

"Not sure," Jane replied. "My pop used to sing it when we were kids, but I can't remember any of the words. Half the time, I don't think he could either," she chuckled. She did her best to finish out the verse, then after a few moments' silence, managed to nail the question Maura had been too afraid to ask: "I think he woulda liked you, Maura."

"You do?"

"Yeah. He admired smart people, and I reckon you're just about the smartest person I've ever met. And you ain't just smart, you like learning things. Discovering things. You coulda just been a doctor's daughter. You coulda just gotten married and stayed in Boston if ya wanted to. But that wasn't enough; you wanted more. You _did _more, you _were _more. My pop would've really respected that about you."

Maura squeezed Jane's arm a little tighter. "My father would've liked you, too, Jane."

"You really think so?"

Maura took a moment to really consider it. "Yes…I believe he would have. He would have liked things about you—your own passion for life, your desire to be considered on your own as a person, not necessarily as a woman. You make each day count. That was my father's motto."

"Good motto," Jane said.

"And you know my mother likes you."

"She did?" Jane laughed. "I wasn't sure."

"Oh yes, she found you absolutely inspiring."

"Well, you know my mother likes you, too." She glanced over when Maura stopped walking, looking at Jane in confusion. "Y'know," Jane said. "Angela. She thinks ya walk on water, Maura!"

The remaining distance to Garrett's house was completed with no more conversing, as Maura did not feel up to sharing her thoughts and Jane eventually continued whistling. Jane's remark about Angela had struck something in Maura that she could not believe she hadn't considered earlier: Jane, Frankie, and Tommy were not children Angela had given birth to herself. But they called her Ma. They called her their mother. She loved them like they were her own, and Maura figured that if nobody had told her they weren't actually related, she would have assumed they were, based solely on their interactions. Angela had raised them when their father was still alive without being married to him, and then taken over full time after his premature departure from this life.

_There's hope for me. For us_.

When the realization struck her, Maura had to take a sharp breath to steady herself as they went on walking.

Of course, there were many intangibles to consider: it was certainly a morbid thought to just hope that an orphan or two would happen upon their path. Still, though, it was a sad fact of life that many children—especially out here—wound up parentless, several of them forced to grow up before their time because no one had wanted to take them in. Perhaps it wouldn't quite do to spend their days searching for abandoned children, but Maura couldn't help feeling a small surge of elation at the thought that maybe someday, she and Jane would be able to take in a lost child and provide a home for him.

_Angela did it. The Rizzoli's treat her like their mother. She was able to help them feel loved and important. _

This small feeling of hope started to burn within Maura's chest, lifting the last veil of unease from her shoulders. Still, she didn't feel that now would be an appropriate time to bring it up to Jane. It would be a heavy conversation whenever they had it, and after the amazing night they had just had, Maura didn't want to risk ruining it by bringing up a potentially dramatic topic. There would be time for this discussion in the future.

And just the thought of knowing that she had a future with Jane was enough to widen the smile on Maura's face.

Once they reached Garrett's porch, Jane moved her arm and shifted her hand down to clutch Maura's. "Well, I guess this brings us to the end of our _passeggiata_," she said.

Every time Jane used even just a snippet of Italian, it would send a shiver down Maura's spine without fail. "I suppose it does," she said. "Would you like to come in?"

With a small smile, Jane pulled Maura a little closer, resting her forehead against hers. "I'm not sure if that's such a wise idea."

"Of course it is. You promised to help me move my luggage out of the front hallway, didn't you? It's been quite the inconvenience. Although I suppose it brings up another issue of where you'd like to me to live before we move into …that other house."

"Fair point," Jane conceded. "I won't mind if ya stayed here. It wouldn't be fittin' for ya to stay in the same house as Frankie and Tommy when you ain't family. Of course, it's also a right real mess right now. I wouldn't want ya livin' in a sty like that."

"Would you consider staying here with me?" Maura asked seriously.

Jane unconsciously licked her lips and glanced both ways down the street to ensure that nobody else was outside. "I'd consider it," she whispered, "but you're not gonna wanna share a bed with me until I fix up that house."

"Why do you say that?"

"Breathe in deep, Maura. Smell that?" She laughed when Maura tried not to make a face. "That's just from rowin'. For the next while I'm gonna be workin' on a house from dawn till I can't see my hand in front of my face. Don't leave much time for bathin'."

"You know something?" Maura asked, her voice even quieter than Jane's.

"What?"

"I really don't care."

Jane groaned a laugh, side-stepping Maura and opening the door to the house. Once they were safely inside she closed it again, saying, "You're gettin' a little ahead of yourself there, Maura. Are you gonna let me treat you proper or not?"

To answer this, Maura smilingly put her arms around Jane's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. She adored the sensation of feeling Jane grin against her lips almost as much as she loved the slight possessiveness in Jane's hands clasping her waist and her neck. Jane tried to turn them around, but in so doing, nearly tripped on a large piece of luggage.

"How about I get these out of the way?" she offered with a chuckle.

Maura was content to watch once she had lit a lamp and Jane rolled up her sleeves again to start carrying the luggage into the bedroom. This was another thing Maura didn't think she would ever tire of: watching Jane do manual labor. What she found so attractive about it was ineffable. All she knew was that it required the summoning of every ladylike fiber in her being to keep herself from pushing Jane backwards onto the bed. The very thought of this was making Maura blush, and she knew she ought to be horrified at herself for even imagining such things, but she figured maybe that was another facet to being so passionate about someone—sometimes all you can think about is the many ways you don't want to keep your hands to yourself. The challenge lay in restraint, that gloriously frustrating obstacle which had to wait to be hurdled by anyone wishing to call themselves, in Jane's words, "proper."

With a smirk, Jane asked, "You like watchin' me work, Maura?"

"It's strangely alluring," Maura admitted.

Jane propped open the last piece of luggage and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her brow. "That why you'd always come by a little early when me and the boys were helping Angela move into her new place?"

"Was I that obvious?" Maura chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed as she set the lamp down on the nightstand and sat on the opposite side of the bed.

"Not at the time, no," Jane said, turning to look at her. "It only just occurred to me now."

"You're proud of yourself, aren't you?" Maura asked, hearing the pride she couldn't see in Jane's expression.

"Maybe a little bit," Jane laughed. "You know, you're funny sometimes, Maura. It seems like what's goin' on in your head is at odds with how prim you look." They shared a quiet laugh over that before Jane finally got to her feet. "I should go. Gotta get a lot of rest before I start work tomorrow."

Maura got up and followed her to the front door, asking, "Shall I meet you at Angela's, then?"

Jane raised her eyebrows. "No. I'll be at the house by the corral as soon as I wake up. You wanna see me at all, you've gotta go there." They spent about another minute sharing an extremely nonverbal goodbye before Jane pulled away and opened the front door. She let out a surprised laugh when she saw Jo sitting on the porch, looking up at her and Maura expectantly. "Hey there, girl! How'd ya know to find me here?"

"I thought you knew," Maura said. "Jo's been around here more than once, especially when you've been absent in the past. If my instincts are correct, she's been looking for me."

"And you let her?" Jane asked. "I thought you didn't care for dogs."

"I had to make an exception for Josephine," Maura explained. "It's impossible not to love her. And look at her," she said, as Jo stood up, wagging her tail. "She knows it!"

"You silly mutt," Jane chuckled. "Race ya home!"

She took an exaggerated leap over her dog, waving goodbye to Maura before she started running down the road. One glance downwards told her that Jo had caught up pretty fast, and she increased her speed accordingly.

Barreling down the road like this, Jane remembered a line Maura had read her from _Little Women_, where Jo says she wishes she'd been a horse. Rather than feel the exhaustion Jane would normally have expected to settle in about this point, she found herself buoyed at the thought of having something else in common with Maura's favorite literary heroine. Jane had always loved horses, but especially as a girl, had at times been jealous of them, too. They could ride free and fast for a much longer time than any here human could even dream. A young girl running down a road with her hair flying her shoes getting dirty would acquire stern looks and future tellings-off. Nobody looked twice when a horse a sped off like a bullet. It was what that creature was born to do.

Right now, more than ever, Jane felt born to run. She'd spent most of her life running, and a lot of it running away. That wasn't going to be the case anymore. After years of quick take-offs and intermittent return visits, she had run right into Maura Isles' life, and she did not intend on going anywhere else without her.

When she finally reached the old Rizzoli house, Jane threw herself against the porch, slinging her arm around the railing as she gasped for breath. Jo Friday had fallen behind, and was just now pantingly dragging herself up the porch steps before collapsing on the top one in an exhausted heap. It didn't matter to Jane that she had a painful stitch in her side or that every breath she drew felt like a knife being plunged down her throat into her lungs—that smile of disbelief and utter ecstasy would not leave her.

"Jo, guess what?" she whispered between deep breaths which were significantly louder than the actual words. "She wants it. She wants me." Her laughter was laced with the sort of insane ridiculousness that comes only when one is entirely worn out and also a bit shocked. Wearily sinking onto the steps, Jane reached out and scratched Jo behind the ears. "Wanted: Jane Rizzoli. Alive. Not Jake Wyatt. There's no reward money, no fame, no glory. But she wants me anyway."

Jo leaned up and licked Jane's chin, eliciting more tired laughter.

"Jane?"

The voice startled Jane so badly she nearly banged her head into the porch railing. She got hurriedly to her feet and twisted around to see Frankie standing in the doorway, giving her a very confused look.

"Frankie! God almighty, you about gave me a heart attack."

"You okay?" he asked, folding his arms slowly. "You sound like you just ran twenty miles."

"Not twenty," Jane said, her breathing a bit more normal even as her heart was still racing in fear of what Frankie might have overheard. "Uh… how long you been standin' there?"

He spent a frustratingly long time surveying her with a neutral expression on his face before responding, "Long enough. What was that crack about Jake Wyatt?"

"What?"

"I couldn't hear you too well, but I heard you say his name."

"Uh…" With no knowledge of what exactly Frankie had overheard, Jane scrambled for something as he walked towards her. "I was just… I ran here so fast, I—I reckon that's how it must feel when he's runnin' away from the law. Y'know, reckless. Fast. A little crazy."

"You ever met him?" Frankie asked, leaning against the railing and looking at her curiously. "On your many travels. Ever met him?" When she didn't answer right away, he pressed on, "That how come you always left, Jane?"

He came off as far too calm to have really guessed at the truth, but this was still a bit unsettling. "Frankie…"

"I know you couldn't have brought yourself to do anything like get heartsick over him," Frankie said. "After what happened to Pop—you'd never go for an outlaw like that. So what was it, Jane? D'you think Jake killed him, killed Pop? Were you goin' after him?"

"Frankie, I only wanna say this once," Jane said in as level a voice as she could muster. Once sure she had his (quiet) attention, she said, "Dad… deserved better than goin' the way he did. I spent years wishin' he coulda done more, seen more, been more. I've lived my life the way I thought he'd want me to—in his memory. At first I thought maybe that meant goin' out and explorin' the country. Bein' wild, actin' out, livin' life as full as I could." She shrugged. "I didn't think I could do that here." She sighed and looked up at the stars, knowing Frankie was watching her closely. _I spent years trying to avenge him. Hoyt nearly made me lose my life just searching. _"Took me a while to learn."

"Learn what?" Frankie asked quickly.

"Learn that if I want things to change, I can't run."

"What things d'you mean, Jane?"

She shrugged again. "The way I'm treated. You know the way some ladies in this town treated me when I was a kid—hell, the way some of 'em still do."

"Biddy Charleston and that crowd?"

"Yeah. You meet people like that everywhere. I shoulda had the courage to stay put and show 'em what I could do, what I was about. Instead, I ran out on ya. I left you and Tommy and this town and Angela, and I ran. Constantly. And I reckon …I reckon maybe I was wrong the whole time."

"You're sorry you've been gone?" Frankie guessed.

Jane sighed and clasped her hands together, still not meeting Frankie's gaze. "No," she finally said. "That ain't what I meant. It was probl'y wrong what I done, up and leavin' all the time, but I think I had to do it. What's wrong is that I told myself I was doin' it for Pop." (And of course, her father _did _make up a very significant part of why she had left, but in context of what she was willing to divulge and what she wanted to tell Frankie, it didn't factor in.)

"So if it wasn't for Pop, who was it for?" Frankie asked patiently.

"God, Frankie, you gotta ask?" Jane laughed hoarsely, glancing over at him. "I was an ass. I didn't appreciate what all I had goin' for me here. I didn't …I mean, I think I was just… afraid."

Frankie snorted in disbelief, leaning back against the railing. "You? Afraid?"

She obligingly chuckled. "Not of things you'd normally be afraid of, though. Guess I was afraid of stayin' around and sticking up for myself here. I was afraid if I stopped runnin' for one second that the rest of my life, the rest of the world, would tear on without me. Leave me behind. I wasn't…"

This was difficult. In terms of revenge, Jane had been looking for something very concrete, very real. But in terms of foraging her own path, of determining her own destiny, her answers had always seemed just out of reach.

"I let fear rule me," she said in a quiet voice. "I was haunted by what happened to me and Pop in this town, Frankie." She could see him becoming even more alert—she had never gone in depth about that night before. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed when she didn't now, either. "We shouldn't be ruled by fear, Frankie. All it does is make you run around, gettin' no place. It's like a rockin' chair. Gives ya somethin' to do so you ain't just sittin' still, but you ain't gettin' anywhere."

"Sure didn't sound that way in your letters," Frankie said. "Sounded like you were having a great time. Seeing a lot, doing a lot."

"Dammit, Frankie, I'm tryin' to have a moment with ya," Jane groaned, laughing despite herself. "I ain't sayin' it's all been bad. I had some good times. Real good ones. But it shouldn't have been at the cost of bein' here with you. Seeing you and Tommy grow up, I mean. Helping Angela when she needed a hand, helping Korsak build up the town so it could really be somethin' and not just a bump in the road between Green Forge and Mesa."

After a very long silence, Frankie tentatively asked, "What're you gettin' at, Jane?"

"Maura…helped me see it," Jane muttered, gripping the porch rail tightly with both hands and leaning over it slightly. "It took a newcomer to make me see it, but she did it, all right. I shouldn't run from my problems, Frankie, from my fears. I traveled enough to know I ain't the only woman unhappy with her lot in life. But how am I s'posed to change the way people like Biddy Charleston see women like me if I don't stick around?"

"And make 'em like you?" Frankie laughed. "Isn't that how Adelaide finally came around?"

"Yeah, well, she couldn't get rid of me after a point," Jane chuckled. "Ah, she's a glutton for punishment though. But Frankie, I feel like I know this now: if I ever wanna go searchin' for my heart's desire again, I don't need to look no further than this town. Because if it ain't here, I never really lost it to begin with."

Frankie stepped forward and put one arm around Jane, giving her the choice of returning the action or not. She responded by pulling him into a strong embrace, clapping his back and not letting go.

"I never really blamed you," Frankie said quietly. "I hate that you were gone and I hate when you'd leave without saying anything, but I can understand why you felt like you had to leave. There _are _things you found out there that you couldn't here."

"Maybe so, but I don't need 'em anymore," Jane said, pulling back but keeping her hands on Frankie's arms. "I got a Sheriff here who respects me enough to offer me a job. I got women in this town who ain't afraid of me, who'll support me and keep me strong when other people try to take me down. I got a great dog," she laughed, and Frankie smiled. "I got the same beautiful sky, sun, moon, and stars. But little brother, there's somethin' here in the Creek that I ain't got anyplace else. I got love here, Frankie. I got you and Tommy—my family. I've got Angela. I got the best friend and closest confidant I ever had in Maura Isles. _Right here_. That all can get me through whatever trials I come up against. Anything my heart could ever desire is here. And I ain't ever runnin' away from it again."

This conversation was the only thing that could have kept Frankie from being worried the next morning when he woke up and Jane was gone. Without her leaving a note or telling him about it beforehand, he knew she hadn't just up and left town. She was just awake and had found something to spend her time doing.

Specifically, by the time Frankie had woken up, Jane was already at the modestly-sized house a few miles outside the corral. Earlier she had gone to Korsak's office and surprised him by accepting his offer to be a deputy and then asking immediately afterwards for the deed to the old, neglected house. He was only too happy to acquiesce, because if taking on such an important job hadn't been proof enough, buying a fixer-upper piece of property seemed like a pretty serious investment. Jane was staying.

Jane was itching to get to the house and start working, but before she could go, she had to bang out some kind of payment with Korsak. The years she'd been gone with Frost, Jane had mostly made money by doing odd bits of labor (often dressed as a man) and saving nearly all of it. Still it didn't quite amount to enough to buy a house, but Korsak promised to write out some sort of installment plan for her, and refused to accept paid interest. She had a small down-payment for him that he tucked away before finally giving her the go-ahead to start.

It was just before ten o'clock when Maura first showed up at the house.

She had borrowed Angela's (newly-repaired) coach to make good time, and when she arrived, she looked vainly around the outside of the house for Jane. Was it possible Jane hadn't gotten there yet? That seemed highly unlikely. Just in case, Maura walked up to the front door and noticed that the brass, curved knocker had been polished. Given that the rest of the exterior of the house left much to be desired, this was a sure sign that Jane had been by. Not bothering to knock, Maura opened the door and stepped inside.

Jane was standing on the far end of the room surrounded by a pile of wood planks, looking as though she had been severely startled by Maura's sudden appearance. Maura didn't notice right away, as she was busy admiring the house. Though relatively small and definitely quite dirty and cluttered at this point, Maura found herself overwhelmed with a homey feeling.

Sunlight was pouring in through grimy windows, dust had already settled all over Maura's shoes, and a distinctly unpleasant but undefinable aroma had finally reached her nostrils, but Maura barely noticed. Jane wasn't sure quite how to react when Maura gasped softly, putting a hand to her heart and looking unaccountably emotional.

"Maura…?" Jane asked hesitatingly, walking over. "You ain't gonna cry, are ya?"

"Oh, Jane," she whispered, taking Jane's hand in her own. "It's going to be so beautiful. We're going to make it _so beautiful_."

"Think so?" Jane asked, grinning broadly. "So ya like it?"

"Jane, I love it."

"Good, 'cause I just signed a deed with Korsak about two hours ago."

"A deed?"

"You…sound surprised."

She looked it, too. "Well, I just thought that you would need Frankie or Tommy to sign off on it."

Jane laughed, putting her arms around Maura's waist from behind and holding her close. "What, 'cause I'm a woman? I dunno how you classy folks handle business deals back in Boston, but we're a little crazy and backwards out here in the Creek. I wanna live in this house. I'm gonna buy it and put the deed in my name."

"Why _your_ name?" Maura asked for the sake of argument. "Why not mine?"

"Because," Jane said in a low voice, kissing the spot behind Maura's ear. "I'm the man in this relationship."

"Well _that's _a cliché," Maura said, pulling herself out of Jane's grip and turning around to face her. "Why would _you_ be the man?"

Looking utterly nonplussed by Maura's reaction, Jane said, "Because."

Maura smiled to let her know she was joking. "Because you're bossy?"

"So are you," Jane teased back.

Now Maura looked genuinely perplexed. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are; you're just soft and polite when you're bossin' people around," Jane chuckled.

"Well it's a good thing you're not my type," Maura said snidely.

Theatrically raising her arms in faux disdain, Jane said, "Wh—after all we've been through? That is so rude!"

"You don't know how to relax," Maura argued with a straight face, looking at all the work Jane had apparently done this morning, while most of the town was still asleep. She just shook her head when Jane confusedly gestured to her laid-back apparel. "And you've been known to wear your shoes and your clothes to bed. _And_, you just admitted that you're bossy."

"Right. _I'm_ bossy," Jane snorted. "Says the woman who's sitting back and lettin' me do all the work here—_after _moving out of her boarding house and throwing a fit when I said I'd leave town." Her smile faltered when she saw Maura was looking somberly at her. As always, she tried to salvage her poor humor with yet another joke: "I'm just glad you're gonna have a while to come up with your vow, because what you said just now stank to high heaven."

Maura laughed and gave Jane's shoulder a light slap. "You're awful, Jane Rizzoli. And besides, I told you I was going to help you with the house! I'm here to work—or at least clean up. You can't deny this room could use a good going-over."

Eying Maura's delicate attire, Jane said, "I don't got any good work clothes for ya."

"These _are _my work clothes."

Jane raised her eyebrows and took a second closer look. Maura was wearing a pale blue dress with full bell sleeves under a distinguished dark blue jacket, none of which looked as if it had been worn before. That also went for the hat she was now taking off and placing on a peg by the door. She looked expectantly at Jane, apparently fine with the concept of working in this particular ensemble.

"All right, little woman," Jane said, taking a broom out of the corner and tossing it to Maura. "Have at it."

Detecting a hint of light derision in Jane's tone, Maura said, "Never underestimate a woman's touch."

Jane sunk into an exaggerated bow. "Never, milady."

"But wait," Maura said when Jane turned to go back to the window whose rotting sills she had been taking out. "Don't you want to give me the grand tour?"

"Ah yes, of course," Jane said, walking back and offering Maura her arm. "This here's our sittin' room, you might call it. This chair'll have to go, and we should maybe get a nice sofa instead to go with the table." She gestured as if a table were standing there, but it was an empty space. Initially Maura was confused, but then she caught on and went along with Jane's bit. "And that in there's the kitchen," a room which was fortunately mostly still furnished, the objects inside nearly going to ruin only for want of use.

The rest of the tour was quick, involving a cellar, the fastest route to the latrine, a tiny room that would have to pass for a study, and a surprisingly expansive back porch. The culmination of the tour was the bedroom, which was empty except for a small end table and a large headboard leaning against the wall.

"We'll want to get curtains for that window there," Jane said, pointing to the window near the ceiling. "Wouldn't want any, uh… sunlight getting in too early."

"Right," Maura whispered, tightening her hold on Jane's arm. "Well, Miss Rizzoli, it will certainly take quite a bit of work. Are you sure you're up for it?" She plucked at one of Jane's suspenders for emphasis.

"Oh, I think so," Jane said with a casual shrug. Her expression turned gently serious as she observed Maura's countenance, stroking her cheek. "Maura?" she asked, her tone aiding her expression to indicate the shift of mood she was going for. "Do you wanna tell people, or should I? And what exactly do ya want we should say?"

Maura sighed contemplatively, needlessly smoothing out a crease on Jane's shirt. "We tell people the truth. Objectively speaking, it doesn't seem as though either of us will have any real marriage prospects that will ensure our happiness. You're too wild and independent, and I'm too educated and career-oriented. You will be a deputy, and I will be the town's resident doctor. Hollow Creek needs us to remain gainfully employed, and if we were ever to marry, there's a chance that our husbands would object to our working."

"A chance, yes," Jane said softly.

"And we want to keep working," Maura continued steadily. "Not just for our own personal means, but for the town's sake. Anticipating that one of your brothers might get married and want to move his wife into your childhood home, you decided to move out, and I did not want to remain in a house paid for by my former fiancé. So, being the friends that we are, we chose to live together."

This explanation had only just occurred to Maura now, but to Jane, it sounded thoughtfully rehearsed. "You _are _the brains in this operation," she snickered, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of Maura's neck. "That all sounded mighty good to me."

"Because it's not a lie," Maura said casually.

"You don't think people will talk?"

"About us?" When Jane nodded, Maura could only shrug. "I can't say, Jane. I'm not so sure that it would occur to anyone. Think of the women my mother mentioned when we visited her, women who never married, living with each other instead."

"You think they all…wanna do what we wanna do?" Jane asked.

"Well—possibly not, but what does it matter? The point is they've done it, and they don't care. We can be like that."

"Yes, but…" Jane trailed off, thinking of the two women she had seen arm-in-arm at the gallery in Chicago. "Ladies like that, they both look like, well, ladies. They _are _ladies. We got about half of that covered—you're a lady, but I sure ain't. People might think it's funny."

"Are you, Calamity Jane Clementine Rizzoli, telling me that you are afraid of what other people think?"

Jane had to laugh, albeit briefly, at the use of her full name. "Only for your sake."

"Well don't be."

"Bossy," Jane husked, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"At least I'm soft and polite about it," Maura whispered back, her hand trailing down beneath Jane's belt and pinching.

With a shaky laugh, Jane brought Maura's hand back up. "Whoa there, Dr. Isles. Save your strength for the house—it needs it!"

And so they set to work. Maura pulled a white apron out of a bag she had brought and put it on to partially protect her spotless dress. Her jobs included sweeping up, washing the windows, and polishing any other ornamental things she could find—none of which were easy tasks. They were at least a tad less strenuous than Jane's, which involved a bit more strength and sweat.

More than once she noticed that Maura had stopped cleaning to look at her. At first Maura had been a little more subtle, stealing glances and taking only brief pauses with the guise of wiping her brown or stretching her arms while sneaking looks at Jane's anatomy at work. It wasn't that she was shy about getting caught so much as she didn't want to stoke Jane's ego at the moment—Jane certainly didn't need it. Besides, it could lead to something even more distracting and potentially disruptive to their work. After a point, though, Jane felt she had to acknowledge it. She was about to suggest they take a break, when they heard a knock at the door.

Jane wiped the sweat and dirt off her hands onto Maura's apron (to light protest) before she went to the door. On instinct she refrained from opening it right away, opting instead to palm her gun and ask who was there.

"It's the Sheriff, ya good-for-nothin' scalawag. And your brothers!"

She opened the door, and there indeed stood Korsak, flanked by Tommy and Frankie, both of whom were holding their own sets of tools. The Sheriff had a large picnic basket, which he shoved happily into Jane's hands. "It's noon," he said brightly. "And we figured you might need a little food."

"We?" Jane asked dumbly.

"Well, I hope you don't mind I kinda told your brothers where you've been. You didn't say not to."

"No, no, I ain't mad, I just—"

"What're you doin' having Maura here?" Tommy asked, sounding a little annoyed. "Doing work? Jane?"

"She volunteered!" Jane scowled. "She ain't workin', she's just cleaning."

"Jane and I are going to live together," Maura said simply before launching into a near word-for-word echo of the explanation she had told Jane she'd give people regarding their living situation.

Holding her breath and clasping her hands together, Jane nervously watched the men for any overt negative reactions. Korsak kept his gaze politely on the person who was speaking, but Tommy and Frankie couldn't help occasionally glancing at their noticeably silent sister. Once Maura had finished, Jane cleared her throat and rested her hands in her pockets, trying her best to appear nonchalant.

"So…hold on," Tommy said slowly. "You ain't gonna be livin' with us?"

"That's…right?" Jane said, trying to gauge his tone.

Tommy laughed in relief, clapping a hand on Frankie's shoulder. "Phew! Boy, is that a relief!"

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, now a little offended.

"Well, we got used to the place bein' for bachelors, y'know?" Tommy said. "And it ain't as though we thought you'd frill up the place with a bunch of rugs and curtains and all that, but now it'll be a little less crowded and you'll still be in town! Best of both worlds, right? And maybe Maura will have a good influence on you after all."

"You have no idea," Jane muttered with a crooked smile.

"Yeah, I agree," Frankie said. "I think it's nice you two'll be living together. It'll save money and keep people from talking."

"It will?" Jane and Maura asked in unison. "About what?"

"You know," Frankie said. "A woman livin' alone. Kinda sad, isn't it?"

"So you brought tools?" Jane asked loudly, reaching for the hammer Frankie was lazily holding onto.

"Yes, so _we _can work," Korsak said, shoving the picnic basket into Jane's hands. "Angela only sent enough food over for you, but that seems to be about enough for two people, so you and Dr. Isles go ahead and take a lunch break."

"That sounds lovely, Sheriff, thank you!" Maura said, offering him a sweet smile and leading Jane to towards the back porch. As she was dragged along, Jane called out a few instructions to the boys, but then Maura had gotten her past the rickety back door and onto the porch. "Think you can _relax _a little?" she teased.

"Depends on what Angela sent over," Jane said, peeking inside the basket.

It actually turned out to be quite a delicious lunch, complete with a partial example of a new cake recipe Angela was trying. Now and then, one of the men would poke his head out the window to ask a question, but otherwise they were just background noise. Maura found it particularly amusing that Frankie, while typically reserved and soft-spoken (at least more so than his siblings), was prone to break out in a string of frustrated Italian when he accidentally injured himself—which was embarrassingly often.

"You know, he reminds me of a Cuban my father and I encountered every time we visited New York," Maura said thoughtfully. "I can't remember his name, but whenever he was upset about something, he would just go on and on yelling in Spanish!"

"I'm sure it was a great help," Jane chuckled.

"You know what's a great help, Jane? Your brothers. And Korsak."

"Right…do you mind that they're workin' a bit on the house? I mean, I promised ya it'd just be me doin' it, and that I'd let you help…"

Maura reassuringly patted Jane's hand. "I don't mind, dear, I promise. You would exhaust yourself if you tried to take on all the manual labor on your own, and besides—it'll get done quicker this way. And the sooner it gets done, the sooner we can…move in."

Jane blushed and averted her gaze, squeezing Maura's hand. "Right. Yeah."

"But that's not what I meant about your brothers being a help. I meant they want you to be happy. Angela does, too, that's why she sent the lunch basket."

"It ain't just me, Maura," Jane said. "Probably ain't hardly me at all. This town loves ya."

"Not as much as it seems to love you."

"You just have a very narrow understanding," Jane said, though she appreciated Maura's intent. "Limited perspective, I mean. It's gonna take effort to get into a lot of people's good graces. You don't seem to have any trouble gettin' people to like ya!"

"I think you're being self-deprecating."

Before Jane could ask what that meant, Frankie and Tommy came outside. "Korsak's hurt his hand pretty bad," the latter said rather conversationally. "Think you could go take a look at it, Maura?"

"Certainly." She got to her feet, and to spare Korsak's pride, the boys stayed on the porch with Jane. "Sheriff?" Maura asked, approaching his slightly hunched-over figure. "What happened?"

"Ah, nothin'. Just scraped my hand on a nail, that's all."

"Well, we need to get that cleaned right away!"

"I did already. I dunno what the boys brought you in here for."

"Oh. Well…so long as I have you here," Maura said, lowering her voice. "I wonder if you could help me with something."

"Sure, Dr. Isles. What can I do?"

"Well…Jane's been gone from this town a long time, I understand. I sincerely believe in her intent to stay here, but I think she could use a little…" She waved her hands, trying to come up with the proper terminology as Korsak just stared at her blankly. "Encouragement."

"Right!" Korsak said. "So what're you thinkin', Doc?"

"Once the house is a little more presentable—which would be soon, if you all continue to help—we could have a little housewarming party. I think that would be nice. You could help me come up with a proper guest list of people who might be willing to lend their presence and kind words, not gifts. Think of all the birthdays, all the holidays Jane has missed here. It could be a belated celebration of one of those, to help her feel a little more secure here."

Korsak beamed and held out his hand for Maura to shake. "Dr. Isles, I think that's a high-class idea."

While this conspiring was going on, Jane had nodded to her brothers, asking them to step closer. "Hey fellas, I need a favor. You like Maura, right?"

"Sure we do," Frankie said. "She's a real nice lady."

"Best chess opponent I ever faced," Tommy said fervently. "And I ain't got proof, but I got a feeling she talked Korsak into letting me outta jail early on account of my good behavior. What's not to like about that woman?"

Though she was a little wary of Tommy's tone, Jane said, "I want your help, then. Maura's gonna stay here, and she's gonna be livin' with me, but I don't want her to think I'm the only friend she's got here. God forbid we ever get in a fight or somethin'—who's she gonna turn to and talk about it? Right? You fellas have been around—do y'know people in town she likes?"

"Yeah, I think so," Frankie responded. "I've seen her gettin' along with people, and I know Dr. Byron said she always gets on real well with patients. They all love her."

"Great," Jane said. "I wanna do something for her, then, if you boys can help me."

"For Maura? Sure," Tommy said, and Frankie nodded his agreement.

"Well, whenever we get this house finished up, I thought it'd be nice to have a sort of a… party, I guess," Jane said, thinking out loud. "We're a little ways out of town, but I want people to know we're here. I especially want 'em to know that _Maura's_ here, but even more'n that I want Maura to know she's got real friends here. You get me?"

"Gotcha," Frankie said. "We can help spread the word a bit once the house is a little closer to bein' done." He looked down when Jo Friday started barking, having just run up from the (very worn-down yard). "Hey there, girl!"

"Hey, Jo Friday!" Tommy said. Jo ignored him and went straight to Jane, who laughed and bent down to scoop her up. "She's been used to livin' with Angela when you ain't around," Tommy remarked, "but it looks like she still remembers ya."

"Sure she does," Jane said. "She knows I'm her mama, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

"We kinda figured Maura was the mama," Tommy said. "Angela'd be more like a grandma then, I guess. But when you were gone, the only person Jo really went out of her way to be nice to was Maura. Remember, Frankie? Angela called her Mama Maura for a while!"

"Well how about that?" Frankie laughed, scratching her dog behind the ears. "You're one lucky girl, Jo. It looks like you've got two mama's."

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><p><strong>AN**: In case it's unclear where this was headed, I just went to a wedding last weekend and got all emotional because I forgot how toasts are a thing at weddings. I think it's a really sweet idea to have the friends of the bride/groom share embarrassing stories and/or sweet memories and in general, kind and encouraging words. Also, just a reminder, this story will be done at 50 chapters. And please review if you've stuck it out this far- they are still appreciated beyond a reasonable amount.


	49. I Wouldn't Leave Her

**A/N**: As far as how much time has passed between this chapter and the last one, I'm not totally sure. However long it would feasibly take to fix up a worn-down house, I guess, haha. References abound in this chapter, including Gilmore Girls, Beauty and the Beast, and others I'm probably forgetting.

* * *

><p>When the house was complete enough to live in, Jane and Maura could hardly believe the transformation. Frankie, Tommy, Frost, and Korsak had all pitched in to help, while even Angela and a couple of women Dr. Isles had treated dropped by to assist Maura in interior decorating and landscaping. Upon first seeing the property, Maura had not believed her love for it could grow any larger, but she found it expanding every day. Each improvement, whether big (replacing the rotted back porch steps so they could be walked on without fear of falling through) or small (obtaining a welcome mat for the front door) increased her adoration for the home.<p>

The only job everybody felt up to doing was that of painting: after much bickering—which Angela had teasingly remarked made them sound like an old married couple—Jane and Maura had settled on a light shade of blue. It was a little darker than an afternoon sky, and went very well with the silver Maura had picked out for the trim on the door and window frames. Once when Tommy took an unsolicited nap, Jo snuck away his brush, which resulted in a streak of silver paint on the blue wall at Jo-Friday-height. Rather than getting upset, the girls found it amusing, and Maura said it added a touch of artistic whimsy to the place.

One night after a long day of rebuilding, painting second coats, and tinkering with dangerous-looking kitchen equipment, Jane and Maura sat alone at last in the house. The sun was about to go down, and everybody had gone home. Maura smiled to herself at the thought that now whenever _she _said she needed to go home, this place would be that home. Not the boarding house, not Garrett's house, but this humble little dwelling Jane had been in charge of creating for her.

Her evenings would no longer conclude with reading alone in bed, or writing a letter alone at her desk, or standing alone by the window staring out at the stars, wondering if Jane was looking at the sky as well.

Right here right now, a new routine was being begun. They were sitting on a couch Adelaide had been kind enough to donate, Jane's arm around Maura's shoulder as she nursed a blue-green bottle of ale that Angela had felt she deserved. Maura nestled in closer against Jane's neck as they both looked out the window at the slowly setting sun, providing serenity after what had been a long and hectic day. Neither had changed out of their work clothes yet, which for Maura was a plain brown dress and which happened match the color of Jane's trousers, themselves belted beneath a blue, brown and white plaid shirt.

"So how about it, Maura?" Jane whispered, gently grazing her fingers along Maura's bare arm. "This the home you were expecting when you decided to pack up and move West?"

"Not quite," Maura chuckled. "It's better."

This response earned her a quick squeeze and a kiss to the forehead before Jane finished off the last of her ale. "Don't look too bad, does it?"

"Certainly doesn't. I _told _you all it needed was a woman's touch." Maura sighed contentedly as Jane just snickered, setting her empty bottle down on the floor. "But honestly, Jane. I feel a little bad now."

"About what?"

"Well—not letting you help decorate."

"Hey, arguin' over a paint color was bad enough!" Jane laughed. "You go ahead and pick out all the frilly curtains and pretty rugs you want. I don't care anymore, I really don't."

"But I want you to feel like this is yours as much as it is mine. You _are _the man of the house, after all," Maura added with a smirk.

"Think it needs to be more manly, huh? Well, I guess we could always nail bacon to the wall."

Maura frowned. "That wasn't a serious suggestion, was it?"

Pinching Maura's arm to let her know she was teasing, Jane said, "Hey, I'm just sayin'—if you're still thinkin' paint, you're still thinkin' like a woman."

"My mother had a rather egotistical friend in France that she took me to visit quite frequently," Maura said. "I think he was an expatriate like her, but I was so young I can't remember for sure. All I _do _recall is that he used antlers in all of his decorating."

"How awful," Jane groaned. "Don't worry, Maura. I ain't gonna turn this place into a huntin' lodge—I don't shoot animals for sport. And I'm fine with everything the way it is, I promise. You helped make it what it is, and that's good enough for me. Besides," she added thoughtfully. "You'd probably hate my taste."

"I think 'hate' is a strong word," Maura responded.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't like it. And then you'd resent it. And then you'd be grumpy. I know sometimes _I'm _a grouch about things, but I don't want _you_ should ever have to be."

"The best case scenario would be if neither of us was ever a grouch, of course," Maura said with a giggle, tracing her finger across Jane's cheek, directing Jane to look at her and grant her a soft kiss.

After they had been kissing for a short while, something occurred to Jane and she whispered "uh-oh" against Maura's lips.

"What is it?"

With the hint of a smirk, Jane pulled back. "When you kiss me like this, it means you want something."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," Jane chuckled, letting her hand rest on the back of Maura's neck. "If you think I ain't noticed, Maura, you must think I don't pay attention to nothin'. You've been gettin' a bit desperate lately when ya kiss me."

"Your ego is astounding."

"You ain't denyin' it, though," Jane pointed out. "Hell, I have just as hard a time holdin' back, when we've got to keep it all inside during the day anyhow. But if you're about to ask me for somethin' or suggest somethin' you know I won't cotton onto right away, you don't kiss me so hard. Otherwise," she said with what was unmistakably a smirk, "you'd get too distracted. Ain't that the truth?"

Feigning a peeved look, Maura shoved Jane's hand off her knee. "Narcissus."

"…good one, Maura…"

"He's a mythological—oh, never mind."

Jane just laughed again. "Come on, Maura, out with it. What d'you want?"

"Well…tomorrow you'll be able to finish the chairs, right?"

"Yup, they're first on my list. They'll be done by afternoon, especially since you already painted the pieces."

"So…they'll be available to be sat on tomorrow night?"

"Y…yes…" Jane narrowed her eyes. "You plannin' something?"

Tomorrow was indeed going to be a big deal for them. A few days previously, Jane had ventured to predict that the house would be completely habitable by the next Saturday, so she and Maura were prepared to exchange their vows on that Saturday evening. They had originally hoped to do it in the morning, but a few last-minute things popped up that needed doing, pushing their plans back a few hours. Maura figured that might be just as well; now, she could have their housewarming reception before anything intimate transpired.

"Jane, I hope you don't mind—I asked some people from town if they'd like to come over tomorrow night. Before our vows, obviously, but… I thought it would be nice to show off our home to our friends." She bit her lip anxiously when Jane just stared blankly at her. "Jane? Is that… are you… all right with that?"

"What? Sorry; you lost me at 'our,'" Jane said sheepishly.

"I what?"

"Our house," Jane said softly, placing her hand on Maura's knee again. "_Ours_. Maura, I ain't ever had anything nice in my life before. And now—I feel like everything in my life is nice because you're in it. You're in everything and you _are _everything. I know it sounds dramatic, but sometimes it feels like I ain't got nothin' but you."

Maura turned to bring both hands to Jane's face, pulling her in for a brief kiss. "And you _have _me, Jane," she said fervently. "Don't ever doubt that."

"I won't."

"But I'm not the only person on your side. You've g—"

"Wait!" Jane suddenly interrupted. "Did you say you wanted to have people come over _tomorrow _night?"

"Yes."

"Aw, for Chrissakes', Maura," she laughed. "We've gone and double-booked. I wanted to surprise ya with a housewarming party, too!"

"Oh! That explains why Tommy said it would work better for him and Frankie if we could do it on Saturday," Maura giggled. "He was the second person I asked after Korsak. I guess you'd already gotten to him."

"Guess so. Gosh, I guess great minds think alike."

"They certainly do. Well. All right then. So we're having a party."

"Angela's bringin' food."

"Of course. And she might even spring for some spirits."

Pretending to gasp in horror, Jane said, "Spirits? In the home of Maura Isles?"

"Yes," Maura said, grinning wickedly. "Although I don't think I'll indulge tomorrow, and I'd ask that you'd abstain also. Just tomorrow night, I mean. So we can… be at our full, uh, capacity when we…"

Jane nodded to show her understanding. "Maura, what do you I call you?" she asked, her tone becoming reverent. When Maura furrowed her brow in confusion, Jane took her hand and said, "I mean, I wish I could call ya my wife."

"You can."

"Not to anyone else, though."

"Jane, we agreed that doesn't matter. All that matters is that everyone knows we're each other's best friends. _We _happen to know we're a little bit more than that. You could go ahead and call me your wife in front of other people, even. They'd probably just think you were making one of your jokes!"

"Maura, nothin' about you or how I feel about you is a joke," Jane said seriously, causing the smile on Maura's face to fade away. "And I don't ever wanna treat you like one."

That hadn't at all been Maura's intention, but she quickly ascertained that trying to explain her thought process would be pointless. She tenderly stroked some hair out of Jane's face and spent a few moments looking at her, trying and failing to come up with something comforting to say. Jane leaned in for another kiss, closing her eyes and just focusing all her faculties on adoring everything about this moment—Maura's hands at her waist, her soft lips pressing against Jane's own, the dampness to her hair that belied sweat.

They never did get around to answering Jane's question any further—not directly, anyway. Jane was just happy to get to call Maura her girl.

The sun had completely gone down, cuing Maura to realize it was probably time to try and get some sleep. She had been spending her nights back at Garrett's house, but she had determined that the previous night would be the last one she ever spent there. All off her possessions had been moved to the new house or elsewhere, including the phonograph, which Maura had happily given to Angela to provide a little ambience to the saloon.

She and Jane had succeeded in getting their bed into the house that day. They had disposed of the wooden headboard that had been left in the old house in favor of a very ornate brass frame Maura had discovered and fallen in love with. Once Jane had set it up, Tommy and Frankie had hauled in one of the more enormous mattresses Jane had ever seen.

Nobody questioned the notion of Jane and Maura sharing a bed. There was only space for one bedroom in the house, and squeezing two beds into the space would have been impractical. One of the girls taking the sofa would have been equally ludicrous. Two women sleeping the same bed was indicative of friendship, but also appeared to be a wise economic decision. What everyone else failed to realize were the added romantic benefits.

But for tonight, Jane was fixed on taking the couch. "It wouldn't do for me to share a bed with my wife before we exchanged vows," she said, although they had done it before. She could sleep anywhere anyway, she said, so she would be fine.

"You're not going to wear this tomorrow, are you?" Maura asked before going off to bed.

"Well after hearing that tone of voice, I'd be an idiot if I said 'yes,' I suppose."

"It's just…well, I think we should look nice."

"I agree," Jane husked. "Don't worry."

"Although you do _look_…very nice in this," Maura said, deftly undoing the first two buttons of Jane's shirt. "Plaid suits you, Calamity Jane."

"Mmm, too bad I don't have any plaid slacks I could wear," Jane joked, dipping her head for another kiss. She didn't let it go too far before patting Maura's hip and pulling away. "All right. One more thing before you go to bed, Maura."

"Yes?"

Jane held Maura's gaze as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small beaded bag. "You, uh… you don't have to wear this if ya don't want to, or if it'd make ya feel funny. But I thought it was real pretty and that you might like it." She was getting a little breathless and her words were running together, the way they tended to when she got nervous. Rather than continue to ramble like an idiot, Jane opened the bag and thrust its contents into Maura's hand.

Maura stared down at her palm for several long moments, where she suddenly found herself holding two rings. One was mostly a simple silver band, interrupted by one tiny piece of turquoise stuck on top. The other was a little more decorative, with coral and turquoise both abundantly noticeable.

As Maura continued to inspect this second ring in closer detail, Jane explained, "That one's for you. I picked it up from an Indian trader in Wohaw a couple weeks ago. I just …I dunno, I saw it and I thought you'd like it. I wanted you to have it." Maura looked up at her, and Jane could feel herself blushing. "I wanted ya to wear it. But I know that might seem kinda funny if you did, so you don't… have to…"

"Put it on me," Maura whispered.

With trembling fingers, Jane picked up the more ornate ring and reached for Maura's left hand, then changed her mind and went for the right instead. "Maura, I'd sure be grateful if you'd be my…" _Wife. Girl. Lover. Life long best friend, forever. Confidant. Companion. Hero. _"My… everything," Jane finally said, her voice almost unrecognizably high in pitch, as she knew how ridiculous that probably sounded. It was hard to tell what sort of sound Maura made when Jane slipped the ring onto her finger, and because it was so dark and they hadn't lit a lamp, she had only the meager moonlight to try and see Maura's expression.

"All I can say right now is that nothing would make me happier than to be everything for you, Jane," Maura said in a thick voice. "But please—let me save something for tomorrow! Not just your ring, I mean, but all that I want to say to you."

"Your wish is my command, Dr. Isles," Jane chuckled, leaning in for one more kiss before taking her own ring back and stuffing it back in the little bag. With a grin, she handed it to Maura and said, "Good night."

"Good night, love."

It always amazed Jane how easily Maura could make her smile, and using terms of endearment was one sure-fire way to make that happen.

As Maura walked into the bedroom to change into her nightgown, she asked Jane whether or not she was going to get changed as well. Jane yawned and replied that she wanted to find Jo first, and Maura nodded and shut the door. The three trunks that were filled with all of Jane's worldly possessions were in the bedroom, and Maura kept waiting for Jane to ask if she could come in to get them. Minutes passed into half an hour, and Maura wondered if Jane had gotten caught up playing with Jo. She couldn't hear anything going on outside the bedroom; curiously, she lit a candle and opened the door once again.

Jane was lying on the couch in her clothes, fast asleep with Jo curled up next to her. Maura could practically feel her heart melting at the sight, a sensation she would not normally feel comfortable diagnosing herself with, but there was really no other way to describe this feeling. Rather than wake Jane up, Maura brought over a thin blanket and laid it over Jane before returning to the bedroom.

Around four o'clock in the morning, Maura woke up for no accountable reason. She lay in bed for several minutes, feeling very tired but unable to drift back asleep. Possibly half an hour had gone by before she decided to get up, light a candle, and check on Jane.

Her heart nearly stopped when she went into the sitting room and saw it was empty. But she was quickly assured when she saw that Jane's boots (which she had fallen asleep wearing) were lying at the foot of the sofa and the blanket was gone. Maura blew out the candle and instinctively went out to the back porch, from where she could see Jane lying in the yard on the blanket.

It wasn't until Maura sat down next to her that Jane realized she had company besides the snoozing Jo Friday. Nodding at the dog, she put a finger to her lips when Maura sidled into her, taking her hand.

"What're you doing out here?" Maura whispered.

"Woke up," Jane answered simply, putting her free hand behind her head. "Then I thought maybe I'd come out here and get a look at the stars before morning."

"Aren't you tired?" Maura yawned.

"Extremely," Jane said with a soft laugh. "But the sofa was gettin' uncomfortable. So here I am. It's kinda nice out here, ain't it?"

"Isn't it," Maura mumbled, burying her face tiredly into Jane's neck.

"You're dead tired, and _still _correcting my grammar?" Jane laughed. "Boy, you sure are somethin', Maura Isles." She kissed Maura's forehead and shifted slightly, laying her arm over Maura's stomach. "Maura?"

"Mm?"

"You know what I think I'm lookin' forward to the most?"

Maura wearily opened her eyes. She was beyond exhausted, but she hated to miss anything when Jane got sentimental. "What, Jane?"

Jane traced her thumb and index finger down the opposite sides of Maura's face, ending by gently taking her chin between them and kissing her. "After tomorrow, we won't have to say goodnight. 'Goodnight' means splittin' up, goin' two different places. We won't be doin' that anymore."

It may have just been one of those random thoughts that occurred in the indistinct haze of being tired and awake, but whatever it was, Maura could not have been happier that she had been cognizant enough to hear it.

* * *

><p>Jane and Maura worked nearly all the next day to get their abode in order for their guests. It was without question the cleanest house Jane had ever been able to say she lived in, and it was not without a little pride that she prepared to call it her own. She had even brought herself to bathe for the occasion (they had yet to acquire a legitimate bathtub, and for now were using a round wooden tub that worried Maura to no end).<p>

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Angela was the first to arrive that evening, and a little early. She came bearing an unduly large chocolate cake, the recipe being one that had always been Jane's favorite. Angela nearly dropped it (opting instead to place it carefully on the table) to go into a fit of maternal ecstasy at the sight of Maura in her dress: it was an eggshell white, set off by a blue satin sash that matched the color of the walls. A ribbon in her hair was made of the same material, pulling her gentle curls away from her face and making it that much easier for Angela to squeeze her cheeks before pulling her into an embrace.

"Oh, honey! You look so beautiful!" she gushed. "You didn't need to get all dressed up for this!"

"Angela, you know me!" Maura laughed. "I enjoy dressing up."

"Well, you look exceptionally lovely tonight," Angela said warmly. "You almost look like you're… glowing!"

"I think that's biologically impossible, but I appreciate the thought," Maura said with a wide grin. "To borrow your word, I may be looking exceptionally lovely tonight because I can tell you in all honesty that I feel exceptionally happy."

"That's wonderful to hear, Maura," Angela said. "You know, I was worried at first after Mr. Fairfield up and left town. I was afraid you'd follow him, or at least go back to Boston since he wasn't around anymore. We're all so glad you decided to stay. And _you!_" she laughed, now looking over Maura's shoulder. "Get over here, you ragamuffin!"

Maura turned to see Jane walking towards them from out of the bedroom. She had waited until the last minute to get dressed, with the result that she and Maura had only a few precious seconds to size each other up before one of them lost it and had to start kissing the other. Jane had a bit of an advantage as dressing this nicely was par for the course when it came to Maura, but while Maura always did admire Jane in even the most pedestrian of dirty clothes, a different kind of beauty came out when she bothered to dress up.

Jane was wearing a newly-tailored suit from Adelaide, which included black-and-silver pinstriped trousers with a matching vest over a simple white shirt. Facing Jane with her back to Angela, Maura got the chance for a quick up-and-down look which started with a new pair of shining black cowboy boots and ended at the smoky eyeliner Jane had put on (again courtesy of a burnt-out match)—and went back to the middle to watch Jane fumble with a pair of silver cufflinks. The clothes were crisp and had never been worn, and the only things that kept Jane from looking entirely stuffy were her undone cross-tie and the hair she had decided to let hang down in all its tangled glory.

"Hey, Ma," Jane said. "I guess I shoulda figured you'd be the first one here. Welcome to our lovely home!"

Angela's response was of course to ask, "Janie, couldn't you have worn a dress, too?"

"Ma. This is my house," Jane said in a light voice, now fumbling unsuccessfully with her tie. "I will wear what I damn well please."

"Of course you will," Angela sighed, smiling wearily.

"Let me help you with that," Maura said, walking over and taking Jane's cross-tie in her thinly gloved hands.

"I was just saying to Maura how nice I thought it was that she decided to stay in Hollow Creek," Angela explained to a half-deaf audience. She herself was busy looking around at the renovated home; otherwise, she might have noticed that Jane's attention was focused solely on Maura, not her. "And Janie, I'm so glad you're staying, too. We hoped we wouldn't have to lose you again, even if we've had to adjust in the past. And then we got so attached to Dr. Isles, and maybe she could've gone either way—Jane, I'm glad you're staying with her."

Maura finished the tie and looked up into Jane's eyes in time to hear her tell Angela, "I wouldn't leave her."

During the next twenty minutes, more guests came trickling in to the humble house, ultimately stuffing them all to capacity. Tommy uncorked the first bottle of wine once everybody had gotten the general tour of the house, and he started filling glasses. Jo Friday normally would have been yapping and running around with all the excitement, but she had been confined to the bedroom with Bass, where Jo could not understand why her fellow animal companion was not more interested in trying to get to the party.

"Can I have your attention, please?" Korsak asked loudly, raising his voice when he realized there was no fork to tap politely against his glass. Fortunately, being the Sheriff meant that people were apt to listen to you when you spoke up, so it was with relative quickness that the gathered crowd shut up and turned their attention towards Korsak. "Thank you.

"Now that I have that first 'thank you' out of the way, I'd like to say 'thank you' to each of you for coming here tonight," Korsak continued, holding up his glass and sweeping his arm in front of him to indicate his audience. "Considering the size of our little town, it's a fairly decent showing. You were all invited here tonight because of your connection to Dr. Isles or Calamity Jane—who, by the by, has recently started work as my new deputy. Some of you know one of them better than you know the other. Some of you moved in while Jane was away, while some of you have known her since she was a young girl. Some of you have only ever been treated by Dr. Byron and may not know the circumstances that led to Dr. Isles needing a new roommate.

"But I can speak for both these women, both these people. They are both as unique, special, and needful to this town as God made them. Jane can take care of herself in ways that make me feel the need to check for hair on my chest every once in a while," he said, garnering a few chuckles from some of the other men in the room. "She ain't your average girl. While we're at it, Dr. Isles isn't, either. Just that title's enough to throw some people off. You call for Dr. Isles and when this pretty thing walks into your door, you think maybe you've gone and died, because surely that's not a doctor, that's an angel you're seeing." He shook his head. "Not so. She is one of the most professional people I have ever met, and possibly one of the best doctors."

Byron lifted his glass. "I can vouch for that," he said. "When Mr. Fairfield told me his fiancé knew a thing about medicine and hinted that she might like to work for me, I was a little hesitant to take her on. But I'd been having so many problems that I knew I needed help, and I was in no position to be discriminating." He tipped his glass to Maura, who was already on the verge of tears, as she was wont to be whenever people said overly kind things about her. "It was a blessing not only for me but for this town when Maura Isles moved out here. The first time we worked together, she about blew me away—d'you remember, Maura?"

"Billy Robeson?" Maura laughed.

"Yes indeedy, as we say on the range! Billy, as some of you may remember, was on death's door with that fever of his. And I still don't quite know how, but I can tell you that Maura is responsible for saving his life. Not only that, but she comforted him in his fear. In some ways, I think that watching her taught me more than all my years of medical schooling. You deserve every happiness, Maura," he finished. "Thank you for reminding me just by your example never to judge a book by its cover. It's been an honor and privilege to work with you."

Byron's toast inspired a few other testimonials from patients who had been treated by Maura, all of them grateful for her class, patience, and intelligence when it came to dealing with their problems.

Adelaide was the last to finish them up: "As many of you know, I have suffered from arthritis for some time now, and had a spate of back problems a few months ago. Both have been severely unhelpful when it came to my line of work, but Maura here was able to come up with a miraculous remedy which lessened the pain in my fingers, and she helped me with some exercises to lessen the pain in my back. Well done, Maura!

"I appreciate that Maura practices what she preaches. She wants to be taken seriously regardless of her gender, just as I wish to be taken seriously regardless of my age. I have known many of you from your youth," she said, jokingly sending a narrowed glare across the group, "but there are a fair number of people in this town who know me only as the old widow seamstress and nothing more. An assistant has rendered me almost useless. But Maura treated me as a human being. I felt—oh for goodness' sake, child, don't cry!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it!" Maura sniffed, taking a handkerchief out of her sleeve. "I just—"

"If you cry, I'll cry, and nobody wants to see an old lady cry," Adelaide laughed. "So I'd best get on with my point. I like to think that any woman, if she put her mind to it, could become a doctor. But it takes a special kind of doctor to be as gracious and considerate as Maura Isles."

"I'd like to add something to that," Angela said. "And bring it a little bit around to my daughter!"

"Ma, that's all right," Jane said quickly.

"No please, go on," Maura encouraged Angela.

Sounding quite emotional herself, Angela said, "I can tell you all right now that I know Maura's not just a doctor who heals our bodies. She can mend hearts and souls, too. Most of you know what a rough upbringing Janie and Frankie and Tommy all had. Since Jane was the oldest, she sort of took it on herself to be the parent. She had to grow up too soon," she said with a rueful smile. "I think that's why she felt she had to leave all the time once the boys got a little older. I know how it feels to have bad memories," she said to Jane in a stage whisper. "They can haunt you. Places can haunt you. It must be so hard sometimes to be back here. But I know that Maura's the one who helped you come back and stay back. That's…" Angela took a shaky breath, and Jane left Maura's side to give her adopted mother a strong hug. "That's amazing to me," Angela choked out once Jane had released her. "I know Janie loves us, and she still has a special place in her heart for this town. But Maura, you're the one who healed her heart and her spirit enough to make her feel like she could have a place here again."

"I'll drink to that!" Tommy said, throwing his arm around Jane's shoulder. "I'll be quick, Jane, don't worry. We've had our rough times, I know that. We didn't always get along or see eye to eye on things. Hell, we still don't! But when I was a kid, I wanted to be just like you. Sometimes, I still do. You're brave, and you don't take nothin' from nobody. Remember that time we put a toad in Miss Dolores' desk?"

"Boy, do I ever," Jane chuckled.

"It was my idea, and I asked her to do it," Tommy announced to the group at large. "But Jane took all the blame so I wouldn't get in trouble. That's what she does."

"That's always what she does," Frankie agreed. "She's tried taking the rap for me, too. Sis, I love you. You're my favorite sister." He and Jane shared a laugh over what had once been their (not very inside) inside joke. "I know we owe a lot to Angela, but if you hadn't been around after we lost Pop, I don't know what we would've done. You sacrificed a lot for us, I know that. You up gave your education, your nice things, and probably a lot of other things just so you could make sure me and Tommy made it okay." He shrugged. "We've really missed you a lot since then, but you always sent us letters and money when you could." Frankie noticed a look of saddened guilt was descending upon Jane's features, and he paused to try and think how he could pull her out of it. "I always used to joke that when I was stuck, I'd ask myself what _you _would do and then I'd do the opposite," he said, to scattered laughter. "But I'm proud to be your brother, Jane. Always have been, always will be. I'm glad you're staying. Really, really glad."

Maura was crying on Jane's behalf, as Jane was somehow still keeping it together at this point. Nobody begrudged Angela a loud sob as Frankie and Tommy simultaneously grabbed Jane in an embrace that seemed to go on forever. People began chatting to each other again before Korsak cleared his throat loudly, and Frost stepped up next to him.

"I ain't gonna go on too long," he said, keeping his eyes on Jane, "because there's probably too much to say. Jane? You know I respect the hell out of ya. It's like Dr. Byron said about Dr. Isles—I learned not to judge a book by its cover by knowin' you. I'd take a bullet for ya." And of course Jane, Maura, and Korsak were the only ones who knew how true of a sentiment that was. "Dr. Isles, I can only repeat what everyone else here has said already. You're a real class act. We're lucky to have you in our town, and I'm lucky to know ya. I think Jane's found what she's looking for."

He meant closure with Hoyt, but the look exchanged between Jane and Maura made him wonder if they had interpreted it a different way.

"Um…anyhow, I'm real glad you two became friends. Jane needed someone to soften her up, and I sure as hell wasn't gettin' the job done." Everyone laughed once more as Frost tipped his glass at Jane and stepped back again.

"Wait, wait," Jane said. "Before you all leave, I have something I wanna say, too. I ain't been so good at stickin' around when I should, or writin' the people I should've wrote to. And I'm truly sorry about that. I don't have a glass to toast with, but Maura? I…" She caught Maura's gaze and felt a distinct fluttering in her chest as two tears finally fell. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You made me who I am today, and for that, I will never be able to thank you enough. You're the best friend I ever had, and I… I guess I just wanted to thank ya in front of all these people for takin' a long enough leave of your senses to agree to live with me a while."

Once the laughter had subsided, Maura countered with, "I feel quite sane, thank you, and in full ownership of my senses. At this point, it would have been quite ludicrous _not _to help you keep house here. I know everyone thinks you can take care of yourself, 'Calamity' Jane, which I suppose is true, but your domesticity is dreadfully lacking." This got its own reaction of appreciative laughter, and an amused eye roll from Jane. "But really," Maura said warmly. "I am the one who's been changed by you, Jane. As we read in the book of Proverbs, 'as iron sharpens iron, so does one man sharpen another.' Thank you for being my iron, Jane."

"There's nothing else I'd rather be," Jane returned.

It took roughly another hour for all the guests to leave, dwindling slowly as they left their final congratulations and ended lingering conversations. (It was decided by many that more functions like this were in order for a chance to get together.) Predictably, the last ones left were the Rizzoli's, Korsak, Angela, and Frost, as they carried away the food that had been left over. Frost gave Jane's arm a strong clap before walking out, and Jane's brothers each gave her one more hug before leaving as well.

Korsak kissed Maura's hand, then shook Jane's. "Thanks for everything you've done for me, Sheriff," she said to him with a crooked smile.

"My pleasure," he said sincerely, holding onto her hand a bit longer than was necessary. "You're my favorite deputy, Jane."

Angela nearly bawled. "Oh Sheriff, you're so sweet!"

"Yes, uh, thank you," Jane said blushingly. "That's an honor, sir. Now why don't you sweetly escort Angela home?"

"Certainly."

Angela threw her arms around Maura's neck, appreciating that the doctor had a tendency to get just as emotional as she did. "You're like my daughter, too," she whispered into Maura's ear before releasing her with a happy sigh. "Look at 'em, Sheriff! My two daughters living under one roof!"

"Truly miraculous," Korsak chortled, taking Angela's elbow and gently leading her towards the door. "Good night, you two."

"Goodnight, Sheriff. And goodnight, Ma."

When Korsak shut the door behind him and Angela, it was as though a wave of silence swept through the house. Neither Jane nor Maura was sure of who had reached for whose hand first; they only knew at this moment that they were physically connected at least that much, and weren't sure how long they had been.

"Nice party," Jane said.

"Very nice," Maura tearfully agreed. After a long pause, she asked shakily, "Was that your vow, what you said before?"

"Nope. It just kinda came to me in the moment. I got plenty more to say and do to ya tonight, if you're up for it."

"Oh, of course," Maura sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears. "I do, too. I mean, there's more I have to say to you, too."

Jane turned them in the direction of the back porch. Through the window, they could see the sky glittering with stars, and as they walked for the door, Maura found herself remembering what Jane had once called this very night sky—an ocean, where the stars were scattered like blessings. That's certainly what it felt like now: Maura couldn't stop to enumerate the blessings she felt she had any more than she felt capable of counting every star.

"May I take you outside, Miss Isles?" Jane asked, pausing by the door.

"That depends on your intentions, deputy."

"Short-term intentions?"

"Yes."

"To tell you in no uncertain terms just how happy I plan to make you for the rest of your life. And then I will be bringing you back inside, where I will _show _you these things, in case the message didn't settle in the first time."

Finding this proposal very agreeable, Maura allowed Jane to open the door for her, and led the way into their yard.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Once this is done, in case there was any doubt, yes- a sequel is in the works. But seeing as there's still a lot of planning I have to do for it, I have no idea how soon it will be up once this is complete. (please review, and then if you feel so inclined, head on over to my profile for a poll.)


	50. To Have and To Hold

**A/N**: Thank you so much for sticking this out with me, guys. I have to say, writing this last chapter was sort of bittersweet for me, and it was really difficult to try and get the tone right, but hopefully I succeeded in getting across what I wanted to. Thanks for all the love and support. (Also, the last bit starts with sort of an homage to _Ethan Frome_, so... have fun finding that, if Wharton's your thing.)

* * *

><p>It felt a little strange to go from a rousing party in a packed house full of people to the dark, open, empty outdoors, but Jane was satisfied with it. She and Maura had made it known in front of everybody how important they were to each other, but at least for now, Jane wanted to keep some of her more intimate feelings just between the two of them. Maura felt much the same way, already embarrassed at how many tears she had shed in front of other people and nearly dreading how much more she knew her eyes were about to flood.<p>

They stood on their back porch for a few silent moments, holding each other's hands and staring out at the stars. Jane only got the nerve to speak up when she felt Maura gently squeeze her hand.

"Uh…I didn't think this through so good. Should we, um… stay standing up like this? Or sit down, or…"

"Let's lie on the grass a little while," Maura suggested, leading Jane down the steps and into the yard.

"Should I get a blanket to lie on?" Jane offered.

"No, I'm feeling a little _reckless _tonight," Maura said with a hint of a laugh in her voice. They sat nearly in unison, and before Maura could lie all the way down, Jane slipped her arm beneath Maura's shoulders. Maura shifted onto her side to give Jane's cheek a quick kiss before returning her gaze back up to the stars. "You know why I wanted to do this, right?"

"You're thinking of the…second night we met?" Jane guessed.

"Correct," Maura said. "Actually, I've thought of that night often."

"Really?"

"Yes. Most frequently when you were away. I would stare out the window endlessly and wonder if you were looking at the sky, too, wherever you were. Occasionally I would even find myself doing that when I was in the company of others and I was still out."

Jane had to laugh at that. "Maura, I did that, too. I'd be lookin' for constellations and wishing you could point them out to me. I still ain't so good at findin' 'em myself." A brief pause followed this statement, as she wasn't sure if Maura wanted her to keep talking or if she would have preferred silence for meditative contemplation. Jane ultimately figured that if Maura wanted quiet, she would let it be known, and so ventured forth more conversation: "I remember that night was the first time I touched your hand."

A soft, satisfied sigh issued out of Maura's lips. "Yes, it was. But you wouldn't hardly let me touch yours. I think I understand why, now. It was the scars, wasn't it?"

Jane's voice was cracked when she responded, "Yeah. I didn't …want… to burden you with those."

Maura turned on her side again, but Jane kept her gaze on the stars. "You know that isn't a problem now, don't you, Jane?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Because nothing that's ever happened to you or been said to you or you been done to you is a burden. Not to me. The only burden that could exist would be if you were to keep things a secret from me."

As was often her way, Jane tried to cover up her emotions with a jocular attitude: "No secrets, huh?" she chuckled, turning her head to look at Maura. But Maura was entirely somber and not all humorous when she solemnly shook her head in reply. This got Jane to appropriately sober up, and she said, "Honest, Maura—if I tell ya something, would ya promise not to laugh?"

"I'd never laugh at you, Jane. What is it?"

"It's about that night—um, the one where we were doing this," Jane said quickly, resting on her back again. "I was just… we fell asleep, remember?"

"Oh, yes. When I woke up again, I was in bed, and then…"

Neither of them mentioned the next step, which had involved Jane leaving town with no word. Instead, Jane went on, "Korsak came and found us and woke me up. He wanted I should wake you up, too, but I wanted to try carryin' ya if I could."

Jane paused here for so long that Maura assumed that was all she'd wanted to say in the firs place. "Why would I have laughed at that?" she asked gently.

"'Cause I ain't done yet," Jane snorted. "I thought you looked like an angel, Maura. Everythin' about ya—that's what I pictured angels to look like and be like. I hadn't ever met anyone like ya before. You were sweet, and tender, and sincere. You wanted to help people, and you made the world a better place just by existing. You didn't hardly know me, and ya started right in tryin' to help me. I didn't think anyone'd ever wanna do that. No person, at least. I'd even started thinkin' the angels had given up on me. But you were there… you were all light, and fresh, and just…" She inclined her head towards Maura again to see that she was tearing up. Jane let out a short sigh. "You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

They met in a kiss, Jane shifting fully onto her side and threading her fingers through Maura's hair. A moan reached Jane's ears, but she wasn't sure if it had come from her or Maura as one tongue met another in earnest. All she knew for certain was just how much she _needed_ this, and how awful it would have been to face a lifetime without it.

They broke apart only when a piteous howling sound jarred them from the privacy of this moment. For a second Maura wildly wondered if it might be a coyote (the only thing that could have made this occasion further resemble their first night of starwatching), but then Jane sighed and said, "I forgot—I've still got Jo shut up in the bedroom!"

"Do you think she wants to come outside?" Maura asked, fighting for breath.

"Maybe so. I'll go get her—don't you go anywhere." Jane got quickly to her feet, then smiled and looked down at Maura. "Hey, maybe we'll have witnesses for this after all!"

A few moments later, Jane's returned was heralded by Jo springing down the porch steps, running around with all the pent-up energy of a dog who'd been closed in a small space for too long. Maura laughed when she saw that Jane had opened the sitting room window and set Bass' crate on the wide sill, so he could feel included also.

"That fella's gettin' pretty heavy," Jane chuckled, flexing her arms. "What've you been feeding him?"

"Nothing fattening!" Maura insisted, getting to her feet and walking over. "According to the handbook, he's in the right weight bracket for his age." She gave Bass' shell a gentle pat, then grinned and sat next to Jane on the top porch step. "That was also the second day we'd known each other. The day you gave me Bass, I mean."

"Hey yeah, it was."

"I think that's when I realized you were really someone special," Maura said softly, taking Jane's hand. "I mean obviously I knew right away that you were different, but… when you cared enough to have really listened to me, and then brought me something that I could love without fearing its abandonment, that was really—that was really…"

Jane brushed her hand against Maura's cheek, keeping it there and saying, "You know Bass isn't the only one who won't abandon you, right?" When Maura nodded at her with watery eyes, Jane continued with a straight face, "Jo Friday won't ever leave you, either."

Maura laughed and slapped Jane's shoulder. "What a comfort."

"In all seriousness, though," Jane said, standing up and taking Maura's hand. "Let's get this started."

"All right," Maura said quietly, reaching for Jane's other hand. "Would you like to start, or shall I?" Then, without another moment's hesitation, she said, "Offer withdrawn. I'm going first." When Jane raised her eyebrows and laughed, Maura hastened to explain, "I know whatever you say is going to make me cry harder than I am now, and I won't be able to say my vows coherently. I'd _really _like for you to be able to understand what I want to say to you."

"Okay, that's fair," Jane chuckled. "Hm. See? That's what I meant when I said you could be bossy and still be soft and polite. You're always gonna get your way with me, Maura. You go ahead and go first."

"Oh goodness, I forgot myself for a moment," Maura said. "It's a good thing you brought Jo out here—Josephine! Jo Friday!" At the sound of her name, Jo perked up from where she'd been rolling around on the other side of the yard, and when she made out the sight of Maura waving her over, she obediently bounded back in the direction of the house. Jane looked on in bewildered amusement as Maura bent down slightly and said, "Go get it, Jo! Go get it!"

It took Jo a second, but then she remembered what this command from Maura was intended to mean. Jane asked what it was about when Jo scampered around to the front of the house, but Maura just told her to be patient. Within half a minute, Jo came running back with a small beaded bag in her teeth. Jane automatically bent down to pick it up, but Jo would relinquish the bag only to Maura, who took it with a smirk.

"Oh, so you two are conspiring against me now, huh?" Jane asked.

"If you call this conspiring," Maura said, opening the bag and pulling out the ring Jane had chosen for herself. "You bought it, so I wanted to at least have _some_ way of surprising you with it. Your hand, please." Giving Maura one of the deep-dimpled grins she adored so much, Jane lifted her right hand, and Maura cleared her throat and took it. "If we were going to do this technically, I would have to say that yes, you chose this ring. But I'm the one giving it to you now, and putting it on you. Jane Clementine Rizzoli."

Upon saying the name, Maura gave Jane's hand a reassuring squeeze, and Jane did not avert her gaze again. Jane was finding it difficult to maintain a steady heartbeat, a steady rhythm to her breathing. She had heard Maura say her full name before, but there was something entirely different about the way it sounded now. There was a seriousness, a reverence, in Maura's tone that Jane had not been expecting, and she was painfully aware of the fact that her hand was trembling as Maura slid the ring onto her finger.

For her part, Maura seemed to be holding up relatively well. "This ring symbolizes all that I have felt, do feel, and will feel towards you. Its circular shape is representative of how for a while now, it's seemed that everything in my life circles back to you. Something good happens, and I want to share it with you. Something makes me sad, and I want to cry on your shoulder. I wake up feeling excited for the day and wondering what we'll do, and then that night I'll fall asleep hoping that I can dream about you, so that no time is wasted." She glanced down, tracing her finger along the ring—"Things can be going very smoothly, and then we might hit a rough patch," she said, tapping the small turquoise stone that jutted out of the silver. "But we find a way around it, and the circle keeps going."

Maura looked up from the ring when she felt a small drop of water splash on her hand. Jane was anxiously wiping at her eyes with the back of wrists, and when Maura smiled at her, she laughed and said, "What, you're the only one who's allowed to get emotional at stuff like this?"

"I should certainly hope not," Maura replied. "Jane, in spite of some of the more frightening things we've had to face together, I know you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're the one who made me feel as though I could have a place here, a home here. You've done more than anyone else to help me adapt to this environment. Perhaps in time I'd have figured it out for myself, but you sped up the process considerably, and you made it enjoyable. You are someone in whom I can confide entirely and shamelessly. Also, I think you are the only thing in my life I've ever really fought for." She shrugged. "I became accustomed to people and patients underestimating my abilities because I was a woman, and I was content to let my actions speak for themselves. Other times, I just let Garrett stand up for me. I didn't believe there was anything _I_ could do to change my situation or the way people perceived me. I think I let myself become passive.

"You forced me to change that, whether you meant to or not. I've taken risks here and done things I never would have dreamt of a year ago, and I regret none of it. For once, I really stood up for myself and fought for my own happiness—which, as you said, it is our job to pursue. All of it was done for your sake, Jane, because I love you so much and you mean everything to me. Having gone through so much of my life without knowing you, I know what the alternative would be if you weren't in it. I know there are so many things I can look forward to with you that I never would have even imagined before I met you, and that excites me beyond words. I know there will be hard times ahead for us, and that our life together won't always be one happy event after another. But you have brought so much joy, so much energy, so much determination in to my already enthusiastic approach to life, that I don't see how anything could permanently come between us. My vow is to always stand up for you, stand with you, and fight for you, for as long as we both shall live."

Going first hadn't at all kept Maura from crying, but even as there was an occasional sudden pause in her words to try and catch her breath, she was still comprehensible. Jane meanwhile still found herself in awe of the fact that somebody had come up with these sentiments for her, and she was indescribably grateful for everything Maura had said and shared. She rummaged around in her pockets for a little while, and glancing up, noticed that Maura was giving her a confused look.

"I know I already put your ring on ya," Jane said. "I was just lookin' for—ah, here it is." She pulled a small, worn-looking piece of paper from her pocket and tried to study it best she could with only the moon providing her light.

"Did you write yours out?" Maura asked, sounding very moved. She had written her own down and memorized it, but she knew that for Jane to do the same would have been very much a labor of love.

"Well, I was afraid I'd forget somethin' if I didn't," Jane explained, quickly trying to finish reading it. "And—I dunno, this way I could make sure I got everything out and made it sound as perfect as I wanted it to. You know, so it'd sound proper."

After a brief hesitation, Maura asked, "What're you going to do with it? I mean… can I keep it after tonight?"

"You may want to hear it before ya ask somethin' like that," Jane chuckled. "And besides, I know there's probably a lot of spellin' mistakes in it." The semi-darkness made words difficult to read, but reading Maura's expression was much easier when Jane stole a glance at it. "Yes, Maura. Of course you can have it."

"Thank you," Maura said, taking Jane's hands once the paper had been slipped back into Jane's pocket (she didn't want to read straight from it). "Let's hear it, then."

Jane mouthed the word "bossy" before clearing her throat to try and speak in as clear a voice as possible: "Maura, you know as well as anybody that I ain't had a real easy life. Seems like for as long as I can remember, somethin' was always off, or goin' wrong. And I don't just mean what happened to my parents. There've been days where I thought I'd get baked to a crisp under the sun—no rain, no clouds. I've known how it feels to just about die of thirst when there ain't no water around. I've known how it feels to be starved. I been shot at and cut and thrown from a horse more times than I could ever count, and I didn't always get the help I needed right away. So I was left hurtin' or thirsty or hungry for a real long time, now and then. It was always a relief when I'd finally get what I needed. It seemed like just enough to keep me goin', and I'd make it through somehow.

"You, Maura Isles, you…have done more to resurrect me than anything else I have ever come across. Your smile is cloud cover on a hot day. Your laugh is the best healin' power there is. Your voice and your words are richer than any feast I could ever encounter to stave off hunger. The feel of your arms around me and the feeling of your lips on mine…" Her voice was getting quieter, but because they were standing so close together, Maura didn't need to strain her ears to hear. "That's my water of life.

"When I was a kid, my Pop never made me feel like there was nothin' I couldn't do or couldn't be—sorta like yours, I reckon. And I don't have any proof, but I felt sometimes like I was Pop's favorite. He told me he didn't ever want that I should change myself to get a man. I don't know that my mother would've agreed with him, bein' the lady she was, but Pop said any man who'd love me would accept me, warts and all. I—uh…I don't really have warts," she added in a whisper.

Maura wanted to say she knew that, but was finding it difficult to form words. So she settled for nodding understandingly as she laughed lightly through her tears.

"So anyhow, I think I kinda just grew up with that idea in my head," Jane went on. "When I got older, Angela kept tryin' to change me. She did it in her nosey but loving way, y'know, 'cause she only wanted the best for me. But we clashed on things. I was a stubborn ass. I didn't think I should have to change for any man or anybody, that much I felt sure about. I just sorta figured if I ever _did _wanna be with somebody, they'd take me as I was. I was too proud to settle for anything less.

"But Maura?" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Thank you for makin' me into more than I was. I don't think ya even knew you were doin' it half the time, but ever since I've known ya, you've been makin' me a better person. I had strength and I had pride built up in a wall eight feet thick around me, but you knocked it down like it was made of paper. I didn't ever like havin' other people tell me what to do or where to go, but you reigned me in, no problem. I found myself wantin' to do anything you asked, and I… I changed. Not entirely, of course—I'm still me, I'm still loud and pretty out there, I know. But you made me better 'cause you weren't afraid to try. You made it so I wanted to learn things again. You helped me see dancin's maybe not so bad, so long as I've got the right partner. You've helped me want to drink less. You showed me there were still exciting things to be found in a society I turned my back on. I can see so much better, so much clearer now. You're like a compass—I was just goin' around with no real direction in sight, and you've helped give me that direction. Ya didn't _try _to force me to change. You just made me want to."

Jane worried that, caught up in the moment, she might have started repeating herself. She was reassured by the look on Maura's face that quite blatantly expressed Jane was going in a good direction.

"See this ring?" she asked, lifting Maura's hand and poking the jewelry. "It ain't typical, just like you ain't typical. But it's beautiful, ain't it? Just in a different way, a way that nobody else can claim." Her finger traced over the ring just as Maura had done earlier with Jane's. "It's smooth sometimes, and other times it's more bumpy. That's us. Everything I ever done before I met you feels like the shadow of emotion. My greatest happiness has been with you, my greatest sorrows have been a result of lettin' you down, and my greatest fears have only ever been realized when you were in danger—for my sake. It ain't gonna all be one smooth ride, but I know it'll be more than worth whatever problems come our way. I see you, Maura, and I finally feel…"

She took a shuddering breath, trying to remember the word she had chosen. Jane felt sure that she had already forgotten most of what she'd painstakingly written down, and probably butchered the rest. But this was harder to get through than she had anticipated, considering that she was blinking back tears and feeling about ready to drown in the look of absolute adoration Maura was giving her.

"Lately, every time I look at you," she slowly, bravely, attempted, "I feel complete. I see the person I'm supposed to be with, and then also person I'm supposed to become. I just… I _know_. I wasn't really sure where my life was headed, and I sure as hell didn't know what I'd do if I ever caught up with the man who killed my parents, but now I do. This is my vow: I am gonna spend every day we are together makin' you feel like the treasure you are. I'm gonna teach ya, and learn from ya, and show you places you ain't ever seen before, if you'll do the same. I vow to always do my very best to protect you, help provide for you, and make you feel loved …for as long as we both shall live."

As soon as those last words left Jane's lips, Maura threw her arms around Jane's neck and pulled her down into a kiss. She wanted it to convey and confirm everything she had just said to Jane and everything she had felt upon hearing Jane's words—every tender, every sweet, every loving moment that had ever passed between them was exchanged in that kiss; any and all insecurities and concerns had long been ebbed away by the growing layers of trust and committed devotion.

The kiss had started out very chastely and gently but had quickly ratcheted up in terms of intensity, to the point that their labored breathing had drowned out all the sounds of the wilderness surrounding them. What had begun as a demonstration of heartfelt emotion had been joined by a sudden and desperate need to impress each other—a battle which Jane quickly won by stooping and sweeping Maura up into her arms.

"You didn't think I forgot this was part of my job, did ya?" Jane asked, somewhat breathlessly, smirking down at Maura as she walked back towards the house.

With Bass securely in his crate and Jo lying down in the yard, Jane kicked open the door to the house and let it swing shut behind her as she walked determinedly towards the bedroom. She felt Maura's arms tighten slightly around her neck, which made her wonder if Maura was as nervous about this as she was. In an odd way, this bolstered Jane's confidence: here, instead of one of them holding an intellectual or physical edge over the other, they were both on the same emotional plane.

They had reached the bedroom. Jane carefully set Maura down on the edge of their bed, then knelt down in front of her and with surprising composure, slid one shoe off after the other. Going as much by touch as she was by sight, Jane carefully set the shoes on the floor by the foot of the bed. There were no drapes on the high-up window in their room yet, but the moon wasn't providing quite enough light for Jane's liking.

"What is it?" Maura asked nervously, her voice little more than a whisper when Jane looked up at her.

"It's too dark," Jane said quietly back. "I want to be able to see you."

Maura stood up and instructed Jane to take her place on the bed. On her bare feet she padded silently over to the desk Jane had earlier hauled into the room and lit the lamp that was sitting on top of it. A soft, earthy glow was cast into the room, strangely calming in its effect as Maura returned to the bed. Jane had already taken off her boots and was about to stand up again before Maura shook her head and got down on her knees where Jane had been a few moments ago.

Jane was sure she didn't breathe for the next minute or so as Maura moved her hands to undo the buckle of Jane's belt, slowly pulling out the strap. She heard Jane gasp softly, and she looked up. Jane didn't look regretful, just anxious. Maura leaned upwards, giving Jane a gentle kiss on the lips as she pulled the belt out of its loops.

"Okay," Jane said quietly, taking Maura's hands when they reached her gun-holding holster. "I'll get it." She gingerly took off the holster, laying it on the floor between her boots and Maura's shoes. "Guess it wouldn't do to have that go off, would it?"

"Most likely not," Maura said, silently grateful for Jane's attempt to lighten the mood.

But things got quite serious again very quickly. "All right, turn around," Jane requested, and Maura silently obeyed.

Jane stood up and began the arduous process of untying, unbuttoning, and de-lacing Maura's dress—the joke being that this was one of the simpler ones the doctor had ever worn. Beneath it was only one slip, which she easily stepped out of, eventually leaving Maura in nothing but a corset and pantalets. She had very purposefully chosen not wear a layer beneath the corset, because she thought it would make her chest more pleasing to look at; and if Jane had been thinking, it might have occurred to her to turn Maura around for a look. As it was, neither of them really had the idea of stopping at this point.

Maura pushed her hair to one side of her neck as Jane reached for the top knot of the corset and worked her way down. Each untied lace brought new centimeters of bare skin—skin Jane had never seen, never come close to seeing. A long _v _of bare, back skin was exposed by the time Jane had reached the last knot. When it came undone, the corset opened slightly, just asking to be removed. Jane didn't wait for Maura to verbalize the invitation; she just gulped and gently pulled the garment off.

Before Maura could even summon the courage to turn around, Jane placed her hands carefully on Maura's waist and kissed the back of her neck, smelling her hair. Unconsciously she tightened her grip on Maura's waist, moving her hands slowly around to clasp in front of Maura's stomach, pulling her back, as close as possible. A fire had been lit somewhere in Jane, a spark going off as reality crashed in on her with the subtlety of a charging steed: anything and everything she had dared dream for-and more-was about to happen.

"Jane," Maura whispered, and she got a soft moan in return. Jane knew she would never tire of hearing her name said this way, like it was holy, like it was new. Maura moved her arm back, resting her hand on Jane's neck, encouraging her as Jane continued to nip at her neck. "Jane…" She seemed to have intuited how important it was to Jane that in this very reminiscent position, she hear her name, and often, not Jake's.

Jane remained silent, her lips moving down to Maura's shoulder as her hands stroked slowly upwards. Her thumbs rubbed small circles on Maura's back as her other fingers caressed the equally smooth planes of Maura's stomach. She gently pulled herself out of Maura's loose grip, moving to kiss a line along the other shoulder. As she did this, her hands shifted of their own accord, moving upwards on Maura's arms. Feeling them entirely bare for the first time, Jane found herself impressed by how strong they felt. She gently squeezed both hands and felt Maura reflexively tense, her muscles taut. Jane's breath caught; her hips rolled forward and her fingers ran up and down Maura's biceps. She had never encountered soft strength like that before.

Maura couldn't handle this anymore. She turned swiftly on the spot, throwing her arms around Jane's neck and practically yanking her down into a passionate kiss. The smaller woman whimpered at the feeling of Jane's strong arms bringing her closer into the kiss, and Jane was likewise lost in the feel of so much bare skin beneath her. She roved her hands over Maura's back, sporadically letting her fingers curl into Maura's hair, all the while kissing her again and again. Two fists collided with her collar as Maura struggled to unbutton Jane's top, just barely managing to maintain their voracious kiss, but Maura was impatient and couldn't even bring herself to undo all the buttons. Once she'd finished all but three or four, she realized there was no undershirt or union suit beneath Jane's top, and quickly reached inside the semi-opened shirt to pull Jane closer. To help further accomplish this goal, she also found herself hooking one leg around Jane's, leaving absolutely no space between them. Maura traced her tongue along the length of Jane's parted lips, and she felt Calamity Jane go weak at the knees. Their tongues were soon clashing again and Maura moaned deeply; Jane loved how the sound felt inside of her mouth. She also loved the way her own abdominal muscles tensed in response to Maura's touch. Normally she might've been embarrassed, knowing the sensitive doctor could probably feel it too, but Jane was too busy being thrilled that someone could make her feel this way to care.

At some point Jane's vest wound up on the floor by her boots, but before Maura could pull Jane's shirt off entirely, Jane guided her down onto the bed again. She had planned immediately to resume kissing her, but as she hovered over Maura, Jane found herself momentarily unable to move. Now she was getting her first real look at Maura in this position—naked emotionally, if not entirely physically, yet. She grasped Maura's right hand with her own and their rings knocked together, the clinking sound bringing a smile to Jane's lips.

They belonged entirely to each other.

"M…Maura," she stammered, summoning the most reverent tone she could as her gaze traversed Maura's body. "You're so beautiful."

She was too nervous to give Maura a chance to respond, and simply leaned down to pick up where she'd left off. Jane kissed Maura's neck, then traveled down to her collar bone, ultimately steadying herself with a deep breath before moving lower. Maura gasped loudly at the sensation, arching her back off the bed, trying to give as much of herself to Jane as possible. She could only gulp vainly for air as Jane let her tongue, teeth, and lips go to work.

"Jane," she panted. "_Jane—!_"

As much as it killed her to do so, Jane pulled back, lifting herself up to look Maura in the face. "Are you all right?" she asked, worried that Maura's eyes were screwed shut in pain.

The low timbre of Jane's voice sent a tremor down Maura's spine, briefly reconnecting her to reality. It was somehow even deeper, even raspier than usual, as if it had come not from Jane's chest but from her abdomen, or lower. Maura opened her eyes and nodded. "I'm fine, I just—your hand. Give me your hand."

Looking uncertain, Jane nonetheless obeyed. Maura was too tired, too overwhelmed by pleasure and disbelief, to keep her eyes open, but it was all right: she had done this blindly before.

A few feverishly whispered instructions later, Maura released a sound that was unlike anything Jane had ever heard before, least of all from the generally restrained Dr. Isles. It was halfway between a growl and a moan, and Jane felt every fiber of her being reacting to it. She realigned herself so that she lay on her side next to Maura, keeping her one hand in place as the other braced Maura's shoulders; from here, Jane could see Maura's face contorting with what could be either pain or pleasure. "Is this all right?" she whispered anxiously.

"Yes," Maura finally choked out, and it was all she felt capable of articulating at the moment.

The obvious rapture in her tone encouraged and thrilled Jane just as much as the blatant physical response: Maura was writhing and arching, reaching one hand behind her to grasp at the headboard rails as if for dear life, the other burying itself in Jane's unruly hair. Jane shifted her position once more so that she could put her lips and tongue back to work on Maura's neck, just below her ear. The addition of this action catapulted Maura into a new level of ecstasy, and a significantly louder one at that. In an effort to quell the noise, Jane shifted again, putting her free hand behind Maura's neck and lifting her into a fierce, stifling kiss.

It wasn't long before one last great shudder led to a final collapse, and she held Jane tight to her. At the time she hadn't been cognizant enough to differentiate the moisture on her face as anything but sweat, but as her senses slowly came back to her, Maura recognized a few drops as tears. What she felt most of all were the tear-tracks standing out as Jane's breath broke against them. Sensing some sort of apex had just been reached, Jane withdrew and left a series of gentle kisses on Maura's sweat-streaked faced, placing a last, longer one on Maura's dry lips. Tired as she was, Maura's body forced her to respond, delicately placing a hand on Jane's cheek.

When Jane eventually pulled back and saw the tears on Maura's face, she didn't have to wonder or worry about why they were there. The look in Maura's eyes spelled out everything. Happiness, relief, satiation all in one.

"Maura?" Jane whispered, lying down next to her. But she didn't know what to ask or say.

It was hard for Maura to know what to say, either. She was very much awake and alive, but completely spent. She couldn't think to put her bliss into words. She had never felt so aware of every particle of her being, of the idea that the human soul not only existed but could be touched by another person. She had never expected to reach such a divine, high plane of euphoria in mortality. Somehow she knew this ecstasy hadn't come just because it was an intimate experience, but because Jane Rizzoli had brought her there. All of these disparate things were thoughts she wanted desperately to communicate, but had no energy to do so.

Mustering all the strength and breath she had left in her, Maura said, "Jane."

"Yes?" Jane asked attentively, taking Maura's hand when the woman weakly reached out.

Forcing her eyes open, Maura turned to meet Jane's gaze. "My sweet, sweet Jane. I love you… more than I can say."

Jane pressed her lips to the back of Maura's fingers in gratitude. Rather worn out herself, Jane assumed they would just be going to sleep now, but Maura had other plans. After about a quarter of an hour, she asked Jane in a whisper if she was still awake.

"Of course."

"Then it's your turn," Maura said quietly.

Before Jane could process or respond to this, she was pulled into a languid kiss. Maura rolled herself on top of Jane; they moved softly and slowly, tempering the rapidity of Jane's heartbeat. She tried to sit up slightly, propping herself up against the pillows and allowing Maura to fully straddle her. They maintained the kiss, and Maura let her hands trail slowly down Jane's chest. Unwilling to break the kiss, Maura struggled to blindly undo those last few buttons. When she tried to pull the shirt off, she felt Jane stiffen beneath her.

"Please, Jane," she whispered, looking determinedly into those soulful brown eyes. "Let me do this for you. Let go for me." She frowned at Jane's trembling lips, touching them at the corner. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," Jane breathed. "Do it, please." The last word was barely audible.

And she sat up enough to help Maura shrug off the shirt. Strangely, Jane's self-conscious fears—about being insufficient, about disappointing Maura, about opening up—all disappeared as she saw Maura drop the shirt on the floor and turn back to her. There was awe and veneration in those gorgeous hazel eyes as they roved over Jane's body. Maura wanted to say something, any simple thing, but her mind was blank. Actions would now have to speak for the loquacious doctor.

Maura leaned back down to start kissing again, carefully placing her hands on Jane's abdomen. She could feel Jane's breath hitch beneath her, not knowing it was because of the combination of Maura moaning into her mouth while her fingers traced Jane's bare skin, fingernails delicately scraping. Every old scar, every time-worn bruise on Jane's skin was forgotten with one touch of the healer's hand; a new slate. Nothing to be scared or ashamed of. Jane curled her fingers into Maura's soft hair, resting her other hand on the woman's hip. Maura was breathing hard, the ghosts of words on her lips constantly stifled by irrepressible moans laced with longing. She started moving her fingers in more massaging strokes, pressing hard against Jane's abs and stomach.

No words passed between them for the next several minutes: all communication was tacit and physical. One of Maura's knees was between Jane's legs, spreading them apart. The air in the room felt as though it was closing in on them, getting hotter and thicker with each passing second.

Upon first meeting Maura, Jane never would have guessed that this refined gentlewoman would ever be able to introduce her to any sort of new, wild experience. But this shared moment, this climax she was about to reach, was entirely uncharted territory to her and she could only have been brought there by Maura Isles.

A long silence passed before Jane managed to say something in a cracked, tired voice. "That was…so… Maura, it was so…"

"See? I told you," Maura chuckled as Jane trailed off. "It's impossible to describe." They shared a quiet laugh over it, and once it had died out, Maura grasped one of Jane's hands and kissed the scar on the back of it. "So. Jane Rizzoli. Whose are you?"

Jane grinned and squeezed her back. "I'm yours, Maura Isles. All yours."

Maura lay her head against Jane's shoulder and her arm over Jane's stomach. "Well in that case, I guess I'd better keep you." She smiled and knew she had to drop the sarcasm when Jane kissed her forehead, gripping her shoulder tightly. "And I guess we both win."

"Oh, we most certainly do."

* * *

><p>Travelers got the account, bit by bit, from various people, and as is generally the case, each time it was a different story. Not unlike Jake Wyatt, Calamity Jane soon became a legend in her own right outside of her small town, due mostly to the fact that she was such an anomaly. If you know about Hollow Creek in Arizona, you must know about Calamity Jane and Dr. Isles. If you know about Calamity Jane and Dr. Isles, you must know of their independence, their popularity, and the unparalleled bond that keeps them together.<p>

Confronted by Jane, you may wonder why there hasn't been a man brave enough to tame her, to make her his own. After all, in a landscape like this, tough women aren't particularly a terrible thing to have around. Approached by Dr. Isles, you may wonder why such a beautiful, refined lady has turned away several promising suitors. Does she value her education and career above finding a husband, as Jane seems to value her freedom over submission to a man?

To others it may seem perfectly obvious that Calamity Jane Rizzoli and Dr. Maura Isles had already found love with each other. Many would assume it is nothing more than an intensely close friendship and would even joke that Jane and Maura often bickered like an old married couple. However, now and then, one might speculate they shared the love that dares not speak its name.

But it doesn't need to. The love is there in every word, in every look, in every touch exchanged between them. It is unnatural to no one who knows them well that they share a bed, a home, a life. That's what you do when you love someone, regardless of what you may call it. Perhaps in their own way, they were blazing a trail—creating a path for a world where two strong, independent, professional women could be each other's best friend, not needing men to define their lives.

The secret, of course, is that in a sense, Jane Rizzoli _had _been tamed. Oh yes she could still raise hell, and yes she was frighteningly effective in her authoritative position as a deputy, but now she had someone to answer to—namely Maura Isles, and Maura Isles alone. Jane sent word if she'd be home late, she did her fair share of housework and even cooking. She was quicker to accept responsibility for her actions and slower to anger than anyone had ever known her. Maura likewise got her own crash-course in Western life, becoming more daring and more open under Jane's influence.

Without question, this was a life Maura Isles never could have dreamed of for herself. It had needed to be discovered and experienced.

It was not unusual for her to say—in any number of places or situations; wrapped in Jane's embrace, sitting with her on the porch, riding alongside her in a closed carriage—something along the lines of, "were I truly a gambling woman, I would bet real money that I couldn't wish for greater happiness than this. I don't think it would be possible."

And Jane would tease her, "You don't, huh?"

Maura would smile. "Of course, that's no excuse to get _lazy…_"

Fortunately for them both, Calamity Jane was always up for a challenge, and Maura Isles, as she was wont to be, wound up never being far behind.

**The End**.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: For a more detailed thank-you/letter of appreciation to you, the reader, please (well, review first, if you want to make my day!) head over to my tumblr page (domain name is jobethdalloway; search the calamity jane tag there). It's been a blast, y'all. Thanks for helping me see this insanity through to the end! And to anyone who's read it now that it's complete, I honestly mean it when I say first of all, thanks for committing to such a long story- and second of all, reviews are always so appreciated, no matter how long the story's been done. Two weeks, two months, two years after this was finished, I don't care! Feedback is the best gift any writer can ask for :)  
>And <strong>the sequel is up!<strong> Hope you enjoy it.


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